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 Thailand and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 clarinet 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 The Durutti Column to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bad Manners 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Schoolly D record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
Marc Almond,
The Happenings,
Matthew Halsall,
Lou Reed,
Unrelated Segments,
The Monks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Electric Prunes,
Lebanon Hanover,
China Crisis,
Terry Callier,
Arthur Verocai,
Monks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gang Green,
Althea and Donna,
Boz Scaggs,
Arab on Radar,
the Normal,
Pussy Galore,
Morten Harket,
The New Christs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Slits,
Frankie Knuckles,
The United States of America,
D'Angelo,
Hoover,
Max Romeo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Zapp,
Swans,
The Dirtbombs,
The Blues Magoos,
The Last Poets,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Yazoo,
Pulsallama,
Sandy B,
La Düsseldorf,
Rakim,
Spoonie Gee,
Idris Muhammad,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Peter & Gordon,
Bobby Womack,
Popol Vuh,
Icehouse,
Wally Richardson,
Radiohead,
Duran Duran,
Clear Light,
Malaria!,
The Monochrome Set,
Anthony Braxton,
Dennis Brown,
Roxette,
Nirvana,
The Shadows of Knight,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.