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 Tuvalu and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Section 25. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Youth Brigade,
R.M.O.,
The Victims,
Funky Four + One,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ohio Players,
Soulsonic Force,
Sex Pistols,
EPMD,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Leaves,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Searchers,
Pere Ubu,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Section 25,
Hasil Adkins,
June of 44,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Durutti Column,
Swans,
Cluster,
L. Decosne,
Ten City,
Joyce Sims,
David McCallum,
the Human League,
The Motions,
Anthony Braxton,
Moebius,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Star Department,
Alton Ellis,
The Gories,
Blake Baxter,
Bill Wells,
Nirvana,
The Smoke,
Crash Course in Science,
The Toasters,
Charles Mingus,
Agent Orange,
The Dead C,
Pole,
The Blues Magoos,
La Düsseldorf,
Althea and Donna,
Bang On A Can,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Moody Blues,
Hot Snakes,
It's A Beautiful Day,
LL Cool J,
Alphaville,
Ultra Naté,
Peter & Gordon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Metal Thangz,
The Electric Prunes,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.