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 Austria and from Hong Kong.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Derrick Morgan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Warsaw,
Boz Scaggs,
Depeche Mode,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Minor Threat,
a-ha,
Blancmange,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Normal,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pole,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kas Product,
Scrapy,
The Smiths,
The Sound,
Cybotron,
Radiohead,
Lou Reed,
R.M.O.,
Severed Heads,
Josef K,
Monolake,
Letta Mbulu,
Roxette,
Babytalk,
Y Pants,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Dead Boys,
These Immortal Souls,
Duran Duran,
Television,
Tim Buckley,
Henry Cow,
Mo-Dettes,
The Modern Lovers,
Magazine,
The Electric Prunes,
The Divine Comedy,
The Gun Club,
Howard Jones,
Sound Behaviour,
The Cure,
Cecil Taylor,
Tubeway Army,
Jacques Brel,
Bad Manners,
Traffic Nightmare,
Danielle Patucci,
Bob Dylan,
Godley & Creme,
The Tremeloes,
Charles Mingus,
Ludus,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
AZ,
The Red Krayola,
Minnie Riperton,
Barry Ungar,
The J.B.'s,
Skarface,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.