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 East Timor and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Mo-Dettes to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ossler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
The Detroit Cobras,
Spoonie Gee,
The Fugs,
The Dirtbombs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Terry Callier,
Parry Music,
Lower 48,
Godley & Creme,
Kerrie Biddell,
June Days,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rotary Connection,
Moss Icon,
Amazonics,
Cecil Taylor,
Bootsy Collins,
Surgeon,
Amon Düül II,
Boogie Down Productions,
Minor Threat,
Joyce Sims,
DNA,
Gang of Four,
DJ Sneak,
Roger Hodgson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Cramps,
The Blues Magoos,
Dual Sessions,
Oblivians,
Skaos,
The United States of America,
Deepchord,
The Human League,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dorothy Ashby,
Peter & Gordon,
Kenny Larkin,
Minny Pops,
The Moody Blues,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Talk Talk,
Hot Snakes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Panda Bear,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Susan Cadogan,
The Divine Comedy,
The Gap Band,
The Raincoats,
Audionom,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mission of Burma,
The Blackbyrds,
Harry Pussy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Donald Byrd,
Technova,
In Retrospect,
10cc,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.