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 Netherlands and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Mo-Dettes to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Magma,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sparks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Steve Hackett,
Sun Ra,
Ponytail,
Darondo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The American Breed,
Cybotron,
Crime,
Boz Scaggs,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Letta Mbulu,
Boogie Down Productions,
Duran Duran,
Maurizio,
New York Dolls,
Kenny Larkin,
Tears for Fears,
The Walker Brothers,
The Stooges,
The Searchers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Fugazi,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Colin Newman,
Television Personalities,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Grey Daturas,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Buzzcocks,
Danielle Patucci,
The Beau Brummels,
Smog,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Connie Case,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Slits,
DNA,
Franke,
Pantytec,
Barrington Levy,
Marvin Gaye,
Terrestrial Tones,
Khruangbin,
Freddie Wadling,
Johnny Clarke,
John Lydon,
New Age Steppers,
Bill Wells,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bill Near,
Technova,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Fuzztones,
Mars,
Suicide,
Bad Manners,
Absolute Body Control,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.