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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Bremen.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ultra Naté to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sarah Menescal,
U.S. Maple,
The Happenings,
John Foxx,
The Stooges,
June Days,
The Five Americans,
Isaac Hayes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pet Shop Boys,
Make Up,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gerry Rafferty,
Robert Görl,
The Golliwogs,
The Blackbyrds,
James White and The Blacks,
Los Fastidios,
Prince Buster,
Hot Snakes,
Todd Rundgren,
Marmalade,
Bill Wells,
DJ Style,
Magma,
Ralphi Rosario,
La Düsseldorf,
Harry Pussy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
John Cale,
Nik Kershaw,
Masters at Work,
The Motions,
World's Most,
Boz Scaggs,
Crash Course in Science,
This Heat,
Yaz,
Man Parrish,
Bobby Byrd,
Pulsallama,
Second Layer,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Searchers,
Minnie Riperton,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jimmy McGriff,
Spandau Ballet,
T.S.O.L.,
The Busters,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Techniques,
Todd Terry,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Electric Prunes,
The Knickerbockers,
Derrick Morgan,
a-ha,
JFA,
Donald Byrd,
The Star Department,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.