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 Colombia and from Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 guitar 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 Alison Limerick 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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eve St. Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Anakelly,
The Knickerbockers,
Hashim,
Scientists,
Visage,
Man Eating Sloth,
James White and The Blacks,
H. Thieme,
Glambeats Corp.,
Unrelated Segments,
T.S.O.L.,
Ronan,
Susan Cadogan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Bar-Kays,
Babytalk,
Goldenarms,
The Gladiators,
Sex Pistols,
Freddie Wadling,
The Index,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fortunes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Names,
Frankie Knuckles,
Scott Walker,
Sonic Youth,
Franke,
Ultravox,
Mandrill,
These Immortal Souls,
New Age Steppers,
PIL,
Kenny Larkin,
The Searchers,
Wally Richardson,
Tears for Fears,
The Stooges,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Whodini,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Smoke,
Urselle,
Scrapy,
Iggy Pop,
The Blackbyrds,
The Barracudas,
Warren Ellis,
Jesper Dahlback,
Avey Tare,
The Velvet Underground,
The Gun Club,
The Toasters,
Lalo Schifrin,
Mr. Review,
June Days,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bluetip,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Shadows of Knight,
Eli Mardock,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.