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 Qatar and from Bremen.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Scion to the funk 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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
Crime,
The Selecter,
Public Image Ltd.,
R.M.O.,
Tomorrow,
U.S. Maple,
Parry Music,
Trumans Water,
Fugazi,
The Monks,
Second Layer,
Pole,
Siglo XX,
Marc Almond,
Girls At Our Best!,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Offenders,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Eli Mardock,
Rod Modell,
Sister Nancy,
The Names,
Leonard Cohen,
Nik Kershaw,
X-Ray Spex,
the Bar-Kays,
The New Christs,
Outsiders,
Max Romeo,
Subhumans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Flamin' Groovies,
Absolute Body Control,
Marmalade,
The Five Americans,
Suburban Knight,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
ABBA,
Shoche,
Aswad,
Von Mondo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Con Funk Shun,
Mark Hollis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Piero Umiliani,
The Shadows of Knight,
Visage,
L. Decosne,
Bad Manners,
Ten City,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Fear,
Inner City,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cameo,
Robert Görl,
The Moleskins,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Altered Images,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.