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 Tuvalu and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 theremin 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 Tres Demented to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
Maurizio,
The Dirtbombs,
Bobby Womack,
JFA,
Johnny Clarke,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joy Division,
Ultravox,
The Monks,
James White and The Blacks,
The Knickerbockers,
Joe Smooth,
Warsaw,
Kayak,
Marc Almond,
The Human League,
Easy Going,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Monolake,
Qualms,
Dave Gahan,
Angry Samoans,
Slave,
The Grass Roots,
Toni Rubio,
Traffic Nightmare,
Black Flag,
Unwound,
Maleditus Sound,
Au Pairs,
Henry Cow,
Ken Boothe,
The Gladiators,
The Buckinghams,
Deakin,
The Young Rascals,
The Pretty Things,
Infiniti,
Curtis Mayfield,
Man Parrish,
New Order,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mo-Dettes,
Mary Jane Girls,
Aloha Tigers,
Bang On A Can,
John Foxx,
PIL,
The Star Department,
Marcia Griffiths,
Echospace,
The Gap Band,
Second Layer,
Negative Approach,
Amazonics,
Bob Dylan,
Gang Starr,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mr. Review,
The Count Five,
Roger Hodgson,
The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men.
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.