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 Netherlands and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dave Gahan to the jazz 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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ohio Players,
Magma,
Pantaleimon,
Fela Kuti,
Mantronix,
Slick Rick,
Magazine,
Albert Ayler,
Crispian St. Peters,
Japan,
the Human League,
Zero Boys,
Man Parrish,
Deepchord,
Icehouse,
John Foxx,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Gladiators,
Moss Icon,
Tropical Tobacco,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Spoonie Gee,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Matthew Bourne,
Quadrant,
Ludus,
T. Rex,
Camouflage,
Nico,
Lower 48,
Fear,
JFA,
Radio Birdman,
The Busters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Clear Light,
The Blackbyrds,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ice-T,
The Names,
a-ha,
Au Pairs,
Jesper Dahlback,
Franke,
The Standells,
DJ Style,
Max Romeo,
Q and Not U,
Radiohead,
Lucky Dragons,
Howard Jones,
Anthony Braxton,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Stooges,
Absolute Body Control,
Bob Dylan,
Dennis Brown,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.