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 Mozambique and from Accra.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Sao Paulo.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mary Jane Girls to the grime 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains 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 a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Reuben Wilson,
Mr. Review,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Popol Vuh,
PIL,
Minnie Riperton,
B.T. Express,
the Normal,
The Toasters,
Letta Mbulu,
The Slits,
Von Mondo,
Sexual Harrassment,
Matthew Bourne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jacques Brel,
Swans,
Laurel Aitken,
These Immortal Souls,
The Moleskins,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Bar-Kays,
Alphaville,
Idris Muhammad,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Doors,
Harmonia,
The Evens,
Marshall Jefferson,
Eric Copeland,
Ultravox,
Dead Boys,
KRS-One,
H. Thieme,
The Human League,
The Standells,
Severed Heads,
Kool Moe Dee,
ABBA,
Monolake,
The Blackbyrds,
Thompson Twins,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Blossom Toes,
Stiv Bators,
Charles Mingus,
Suicide,
Avey Tare,
Bronski Beat,
Index,
Rites of Spring,
Blake Baxter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Steve Hackett,
Lalann,
Sandy B,
Michelle Simonal,
The Dirtbombs,
Kenny Larkin,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.