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 Albania and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 rhodes 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 Throbbing Gristle to the crunk 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Pierre Henry,
The Durutti Column,
The Evens,
Saccharine Trust,
Josef K,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Buckinghams,
Michelle Simonal,
Eric B and Rakim,
DJ Style,
Frankie Knuckles,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Busters,
Fat Boys,
Nas,
Yellowson,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tim Buckley,
Outsiders,
T.S.O.L.,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mark Hollis,
The Litter,
Von Mondo,
Tommy Roe,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bauhaus,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Beau Brummels,
Fear,
Wings,
Monks,
Yaz,
Television,
Bluetip,
Sex Pistols,
Gastr Del Sol,
New Age Steppers,
Amon Düül II,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dual Sessions,
Mandrill,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fall,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ronan,
The Gories,
Marine Girls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Isaac Hayes,
Dave Gahan,
Echospace,
Hardrive,
The Stooges,
Organ,
Spandau Ballet,
Sällskapet,
Mary Jane Girls,
Depeche Mode,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.