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 China and from London.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 New Age Steppers to the grunge 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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Roxette,
The Saints,
The Misunderstood,
Eve St. Jones,
The New Christs,
Marmalade,
Basic Channel,
Boredoms,
Altered Images,
The Mojo Men,
The Monks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pagans,
Qualms,
Suicide,
Negative Approach,
R.M.O.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pussy Galore,
Peter and Kerry,
Animal Collective,
Gabor Szabo,
Harry Pussy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Roxy Music,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gichy Dan,
Pantytec,
Make Up,
Godley & Creme,
Barclay James Harvest,
Magazine,
Matthew Halsall,
Jacob Miller,
Agent Orange,
Young Marble Giants,
Technova,
Letta Mbulu,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sixth Finger,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lower 48,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Moleskins,
David McCallum,
Pet Shop Boys,
Procol Harum,
Big Daddy Kane,
Juan Atkins,
The Birthday Party,
the Soft Cell,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Seeds,
OOIOO,
Dead Boys,
Main Source,
Skaos,
Sun City Girls,
Graham Central Station,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.