Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Tajikistan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Henry Cow to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nas,
Jacques Brel,
Surgeon,
Desert Stars,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxy Music,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Tomorrow,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mary Jane Girls,
Prince Buster,
The Kinks,
The Doors,
Minutemen,
These Immortal Souls,
Malaria!,
Kaleidoscope,
Bluetip,
Masters at Work,
CMW,
The Sound,
The Music Machine,
The Cowsills,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gang Green,
Skaos,
Silicon Teens,
Freddie Wadling,
Amazonics,
Cluster,
The Cramps,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Jawbox,
Patti Smith,
Max Romeo,
Matthew Bourne,
Kerri Chandler,
Yaz,
Idris Muhammad,
Quadrant,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
E-Dancer,
cv313,
Eve St. Jones,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rekid,
Marc Almond,
Goldenarms,
Zapp,
Crime,
Livin' Joy,
Fad Gadget,
Pulsallama,
Connie Case,
The J.B.'s,
Ossler,
Bobby Womack,
Guru Guru,
Archie Shepp,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.