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 El Salvador and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Dawn Penn to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
The Litter,
Fear,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Boz Scaggs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kas Product,
Main Source,
H. Thieme,
Steve Hackett,
Janne Schatter,
Albert Ayler,
The Cure,
T. Rex,
Smog,
kango's stein massive,
The Motions,
Neu!,
June Days,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Peter and Kerry,
Dorothy Ashby,
Matthew Halsall,
Mandrill,
Kaleidoscope,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Johnny Clarke,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
PIL,
Moby Grape,
Gil Scott Heron,
10cc,
Charles Mingus,
Scientists,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eden Ahbez,
In Retrospect,
Pantaleimon,
The Associates,
Graham Central Station,
Y Pants,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Kinks,
The Monks,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Toasters,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Stooges,
Faust,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ohio Players,
Todd Rundgren,
David Axelrod,
Max Romeo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Pretty Things,
Flipper,
Harpers Bizarre,
Duran Duran,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Anthony Braxton,
Roy Ayers,
Donny Hathaway,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.