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 Belarus and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sex Pistols to the grime 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 Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Echospace,
the Normal,
The Remains,
Bronski Beat,
Basic Channel,
Joensuu 1685,
Youth Brigade,
Gabor Szabo,
Tubeway Army,
Jeru the Damaja,
Black Pus,
Flamin' Groovies,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
cv313,
Sugar Minott,
Cal Tjader,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Gladiators,
Sound Behaviour,
Visage,
Blancmange,
Babytalk,
Kurtis Blow,
Oblivians,
Eric Copeland,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Slackers,
Soft Machine,
The Kinks,
the Slits,
Dave Gahan,
The Trojans,
Dead Boys,
Ultra Naté,
the Germs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Andrew Hill,
June of 44,
Monks,
the Soft Cell,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Blake Baxter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
ABC,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Masters at Work,
Delta 5,
Deakin,
Yaz,
Duran Duran,
Eddi Front,
Bill Near,
Quadrant,
Clear Light,
Alison Limerick,
The Monks,
Wire,
Heaven 17,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.