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 Tunisia and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Intrusion to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter and Kerry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Soul II Soul,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Faust,
Glambeats Corp.,
Brothers Johnson,
Siglo XX,
The Star Department,
La Düsseldorf,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Skriet,
Cabaret Voltaire,
OOIOO,
Ludus,
The Fall,
Mr. Review,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Cymande,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Laurel Aitken,
Deepchord,
Chrome,
The Fortunes,
The Mojo Men,
Blancmange,
Rapeman,
Flash Fearless,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Black Dice,
Sonny Sharrock,
Television,
Drexciya,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Marc Almond,
Rosa Yemen,
Letta Mbulu,
Dennis Brown,
Dual Sessions,
Terry Callier,
Steve Hackett,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Con Funk Shun,
Grandmaster Flash,
Albert Ayler,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Procol Harum,
Animal Collective,
Gang Green,
Harmonia,
The New Christs,
June Days,
Half Japanese,
Television Personalities,
the Normal,
Cybotron,
Agent Orange,
The Standells,
Al Stewart,
a-ha,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.