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 Dominica and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scan 7 to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 UT tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
The Skatalites,
The Fortunes,
Lou Christie,
The Flesh Eaters,
Chris Corsano,
Black Flag,
Donald Byrd,
Camouflage,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Beau Brummels,
Radiohead,
Spandau Ballet,
Barry Ungar,
Don Cherry,
The Standells,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Juan Atkins,
T.S.O.L.,
The Pop Group,
Pylon,
MC5,
Godley & Creme,
Quantec,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scott Walker,
Bad Manners,
the Bar-Kays,
Marine Girls,
Pulsallama,
Qualms,
The Blackbyrds,
Au Pairs,
Fear,
The Seeds,
Stetsasonic,
The Kinks,
the Soft Cell,
Harpers Bizarre,
Erasure,
James White and The Blacks,
Eli Mardock,
Average White Band,
Mission of Burma,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dual Sessions,
The Motions,
Dead Boys,
CMW,
Skaos,
Bobby Sherman,
Pussy Galore,
Supertramp,
Al Stewart,
The Smoke,
Mark Hollis,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.