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 Togo and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Eddi Front to the punk 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
The Names,
The Dead C,
Heaven 17,
the Soft Cell,
The Barracudas,
Zapp,
Country Teasers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Franke,
Radiohead,
Blossom Toes,
Yazoo,
Andrew Hill,
The Gap Band,
Althea and Donna,
Black Flag,
Moss Icon,
Soft Machine,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Golliwogs,
the Fania All-Stars,
K-Klass,
Main Source,
Aural Exciters,
Nirvana,
The Victims,
Dead Boys,
Minutemen,
Amazonics,
Jawbox,
ABC,
UT,
Rakim,
Goldenarms,
Erasure,
Make Up,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lightning Bolt,
The Selecter,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Cecil Taylor,
The Moleskins,
The Offenders,
The Sonics,
Clear Light,
Ultra Naté,
Dave Gahan,
Scion,
Gang Gang Dance,
Suburban Knight,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sandy B,
10cc,
Black Moon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Das Ding,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.