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 India and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 synthesizer 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 Trumans Water to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Prince Buster,
Groovy Waters,
Wasted Youth,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tommy Roe,
Alice Coltrane,
Eden Ahbez,
Infiniti,
The Names,
LL Cool J,
Grey Daturas,
Bill Near,
Urselle,
Bauhaus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dave Gahan,
A Certain Ratio,
Pussy Galore,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Bar-Kays,
Maleditus Sound,
The Monks,
Vladislav Delay,
The Techniques,
Buzzcocks,
The Human League,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Durutti Column,
The Barracudas,
Charles Mingus,
Colin Newman,
The Fuzztones,
Quadrant,
The Fire Engines,
Ronnie Foster,
Carl Craig,
Joey Negro,
Mr. Review,
Quantec,
Franke,
Michelle Simonal,
Banda Bassotti,
Brick,
Popol Vuh,
The Flesh Eaters,
F. McDonald,
Shuggie Otis,
Bush Tetras,
Gong,
The Seeds,
The Toasters,
Eric Dolphy,
Nik Kershaw,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Moby Grape,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Fall,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.