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 Nicaragua and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sisters of Mercy to the funk 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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Interpol,
Pierre Henry,
Bauhaus,
Hashim,
Easy Going,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fuzztones,
Hot Snakes,
Chrome,
Rufus Thomas,
The Velvet Underground,
Agitation Free,
Eden Ahbez,
Bobby Byrd,
Quantec,
Tubeway Army,
The Vogues,
Niagra,
Thompson Twins,
Altered Images,
Sun City Girls,
Talk Talk,
Absolute Body Control,
Mission of Burma,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Susan Cadogan,
Ornette Coleman,
The Birthday Party,
Y Pants,
Mo-Dettes,
Sparks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Joe Finger,
Adolescents,
Black Sheep,
The Star Department,
Bill Near,
Erasure,
48th St. Collective,
Subhumans,
The Flesh Eaters,
T. Rex,
Prince Buster,
Kayak,
Henry Cow,
Tom Boy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
In Retrospect,
Cecil Taylor,
Circle Jerks,
Max Romeo,
FM Einheit,
Sun Ra,
Fear,
Schoolly D,
Derrick May,
Zapp,
Clear Light,
Blossom Toes,
Aaron Thompson,
The Barracudas,
Arcadia,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.