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 Algeria and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Trumans Water to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 LL Cool J. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Josef K record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Busters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lyres,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Make Up,
Sixth Finger,
Josef K,
Bill Wells,
Davy DMX,
Cymande,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Peter and Kerry,
Oneida,
Vainqueur,
Eddi Front,
Cameo,
Spoonie Gee,
Tears for Fears,
Deakin,
Pantaleimon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Banda Bassotti,
The Move,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Womack,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Thee Headcoats,
Alice Coltrane,
ABBA,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Leonard Cohen,
Gang Green,
Neu!,
Technova,
The Buckinghams,
Easy Going,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Cowsills,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sexual Harrassment,
Skriet,
Whodini,
Big Daddy Kane,
John Cale,
Mission of Burma,
Stiv Bators,
B.T. Express,
Harry Pussy,
Dead Boys,
Mantronix,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Scientists,
Television,
the Soft Cell,
T.S.O.L.,
Pulsallama,
Procol Harum,
Jacques Brel,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.