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 Haiti and from Delhi.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Black Moon to the disco 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 Eli Mardock. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Icehouse,
T. Rex,
The Red Krayola,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
the Slits,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Velvet Underground,
OOIOO,
B.T. Express,
Anakelly,
Livin' Joy,
Newcleus,
Bauhaus,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Monolake,
Popol Vuh,
The Cure,
Ultra Naté,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Make Up,
Alice Coltrane,
Pussy Galore,
Slick Rick,
Aaron Thompson,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Vogues,
Circle Jerks,
Audionom,
Duran Duran,
Thee Headcoats,
Rosa Yemen,
Parry Music,
The American Breed,
Skaos,
John Lydon,
Negative Approach,
the Germs,
Matthew Halsall,
a-ha,
The Toasters,
Nick Fraelich,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gil Scott Heron,
Eric Dolphy,
Black Flag,
Au Pairs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ten City,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Amazonics,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Quando Quango,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Neon Judgement,
Pulsallama,
Johnny Clarke,
Q and Not U,
Crash Course in Science,
Rakim,
Jerry's Kids,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.