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 Malawi and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tokyo.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 ABBA to the funk 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 The Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic 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?
The Cowsills,
JFA,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Make Up,
Eric Copeland,
Oneida,
Fear,
The Walker Brothers,
Scrapy,
CMW,
Chris Corsano,
Harmonia,
Bill Wells,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Wings,
Charles Mingus,
Mission of Burma,
Pussy Galore,
Roxy Music,
The Saints,
Cecil Taylor,
John Cale,
Pole,
Liliput,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Birthday Party,
Rites of Spring,
Amon Düül,
Boz Scaggs,
Delta 5,
Toni Rubio,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
DJ Style,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Loose Ends,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Magma,
Johnny Clarke,
the Soft Cell,
Maleditus Sound,
Hardrive,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Henry Cow,
Bootsy Collins,
The Detroit Cobras,
Godley & Creme,
Aloha Tigers,
Howard Jones,
Spoonie Gee,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Swans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jerry's Kids,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Soft Machine,
Tim Buckley,
The Gun Club,
The Real Kids,
Joensuu 1685,
Albert Ayler,
Flash Fearless,
Brick,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.