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 Morocco and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 The Names to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Godley & Creme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalo Schifrin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Motions,
The Fuzztones,
Mark Hollis,
Janne Schatter,
Cybotron,
Camberwell Now,
Morten Harket,
Nik Kershaw,
Lou Christie,
The Fire Engines,
Moebius,
Marmalade,
Severed Heads,
The Saints,
Maleditus Sound,
Vladislav Delay,
The Grass Roots,
Ornette Coleman,
Tres Demented,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fall,
The Kinks,
The Toasters,
Slave,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Harry Pussy,
Newcleus,
Henry Cow,
The Standells,
Mo-Dettes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sonny Sharrock,
Laurel Aitken,
Von Mondo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Soul Sonic Force,
a-ha,
Matthew Bourne,
Dennis Brown,
Albert Ayler,
X-102,
Sandy B,
Jerry's Kids,
T. Rex,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sarah Menescal,
Cluster,
The Fortunes,
Flipper,
Bill Wells,
Barrington Levy,
DNA,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Section 25,
The Martian,
The Selecter,
10cc,
These Immortal Souls,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.