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 Hungary and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 sitar 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 Marvin Gaye to the grunge 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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Ultravox,
Pere Ubu,
Unrelated Segments,
Hasil Adkins,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Malaria!,
The Names,
The Alarm Clocks,
Inner City,
Nils Olav,
X-101,
Bad Manners,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Real Kids,
Zapp,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang Green,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Make Up,
Severed Heads,
Junior Murvin,
Moebius,
In Retrospect,
The Gories,
X-102,
Drexciya,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lindisfarne,
Lakeside,
Patti Smith,
Rakim,
Swell Maps,
Bootsy Collins,
The Wake,
Scrapy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Flash Fearless,
R.M.O.,
Suicide,
Dead Boys,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Animal Collective,
Peter and Kerry,
The Fire Engines,
KRS-One,
The Electric Prunes,
Easy Going,
Tropical Tobacco,
Parry Music,
China Crisis,
Deepchord,
Franke,
Colin Newman,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sun City Girls,
ABC,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish.
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.