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 Kiribati and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manchester.
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 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aswad,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gichy Dan,
Little Man,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Associates,
The New Christs,
Tom Boy,
Arcadia,
Brand Nubian,
Goldenarms,
Maleditus Sound,
The Sisters of Mercy,
This Heat,
Stiv Bators,
Unrelated Segments,
Bang On A Can,
Symarip,
Smog,
Easy Going,
Swell Maps,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bobby Womack,
Todd Rundgren,
Intrusion,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Swans,
Gregory Isaacs,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rod Modell,
Supertramp,
The Black Dice,
Agitation Free,
Moebius,
Traffic Nightmare,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pere Ubu,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sexual Harrassment,
Josef K,
John Cale,
Alton Ellis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mr. Review,
The Walker Brothers,
Fugazi,
Faust,
New Order,
Roy Ayers,
Tres Demented,
Public Enemy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hashim,
John Lydon,
The Beau Brummels,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.