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 Germany and from Seoul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Moleskins to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Monks,
Amon Düül,
Amazonics,
Motorama,
Chris & Cosey,
Alphaville,
The Moleskins,
Man Parrish,
Spoonie Gee,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Index,
Throbbing Gristle,
Slick Rick,
The United States of America,
Bob Dylan,
Josef K,
Tim Buckley,
David McCallum,
Lou Reed,
Suburban Knight,
Zero Boys,
Quando Quango,
Tropical Tobacco,
Derrick May,
The Selecter,
Lakeside,
Bobby Sherman,
the Slits,
New Order,
Malaria!,
Public Enemy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gil Scott Heron,
Animal Collective,
Pierre Henry,
the Sonics,
Skriet,
Sixth Finger,
Panda Bear,
Swell Maps,
Ultravox,
The Fortunes,
Oneida,
Juan Atkins,
Surgeon,
Kurtis Blow,
Harry Pussy,
Susan Cadogan,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Yellowson,
Godley & Creme,
Brothers Johnson,
Kenny Larkin,
Absolute Body Control,
Nico,
Black Moon,
Morten Harket,
The Move,
Marcia Griffiths,
These Immortal Souls,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.