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 Afghanistan and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 güiro 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 F. McDonald to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Mark Hollis,
The Gap Band,
Easy Going,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Procol Harum,
The Names,
Peter & Gordon,
John Cale,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
DNA,
June of 44,
Jimmy McGriff,
Simply Red,
The Standells,
Bang On A Can,
The Knickerbockers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
kango's stein massive,
Big Daddy Kane,
Neu!,
Marvin Gaye,
Marmalade,
Eric Dolphy,
Sandy B,
Joyce Sims,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Misunderstood,
Grauzone,
Crash Course in Science,
Godley & Creme,
Dennis Brown,
Can,
The Wake,
La Düsseldorf,
Ronnie Foster,
Terrestrial Tones,
Laurel Aitken,
Jacob Miller,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Association,
Lindisfarne,
Livin' Joy,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Toasters,
Charles Mingus,
The Cramps,
The Last Poets,
The Smiths,
Sällskapet,
Royal Trux,
Pussy Galore,
Sonic Youth,
The Five Americans,
John Coltrane,
Ken Boothe,
Buzzcocks,
Nirvana,
Johnny Clarke,
Sister Nancy,
The Doors,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.