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 Namibia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Pussy Galore to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Age Steppers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Flesh Eaters,
Motorama,
Mars,
Scott Walker,
The Star Department,
Sister Nancy,
One Last Wish,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tears for Fears,
Soft Machine,
Marc Almond,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Dirtbombs,
Ken Boothe,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Trojans,
Maleditus Sound,
The Gories,
Agent Orange,
Maurizio,
Ultra Naté,
The Leaves,
Morten Harket,
Excepter,
Grey Daturas,
The Remains,
The Cramps,
Crash Course in Science,
Eric Dolphy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
A Certain Ratio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fad Gadget,
Pere Ubu,
The Residents,
Moby Grape,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Alphaville,
Albert Ayler,
Johnny Clarke,
Idris Muhammad,
Funkadelic,
Sex Pistols,
Blake Baxter,
Make Up,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Index,
Unrelated Segments,
The Beau Brummels,
Janne Schatter,
Derrick Morgan,
The Moleskins,
Fatback Band,
Ten City,
David McCallum,
DJ Sneak,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.