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 Malawi 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Absolute Body Control to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Groovy Waters,
Amon Düül,
Tears for Fears,
The Moody Blues,
Kurtis Blow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Coltrane,
Man Parrish,
Dead Boys,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Whodini,
The Associates,
The Buckinghams,
The Martian,
Sugar Minott,
Hashim,
Franke,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Monks,
Hardrive,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ituana,
Spoonie Gee,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
A Certain Ratio,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gong,
The Searchers,
David Bowie,
Sam Rivers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lou Reed,
Johnny Clarke,
The Gladiators,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gang of Four,
The Blues Magoos,
Nico,
Thompson Twins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
T. Rex,
Rosa Yemen,
Skarface,
The Gories,
The Modern Lovers,
Buzzcocks,
The Star Department,
Bluetip,
Maleditus Sound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Absolute Body Control,
Robert Hood,
James White and The Blacks,
The Tremeloes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Warren Ellis,
Byron Stingily,
The Smiths,
Gang Starr,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.