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 Ecuador and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 United States of America to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four 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?
Reuben Wilson,
Deadbeat,
Roy Ayers,
James White and The Blacks,
Delta 5,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Count Five,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Misunderstood,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Easy Going,
John Holt,
David Bowie,
Fad Gadget,
Tommy Roe,
Symarip,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Excepter,
Unwound,
Todd Terry,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bobby Womack,
Tom Boy,
Jandek,
Judy Mowatt,
Harry Pussy,
Steve Hackett,
Second Layer,
Dennis Brown,
Deepchord,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Martian,
Al Stewart,
Ultra Naté,
Erykah Badu,
Hoover,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Walker Brothers,
Audionom,
The Modern Lovers,
Lyres,
Dark Day,
The Busters,
Jacob Miller,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Raincoats,
Warsaw,
The Music Machine,
Pylon,
Bob Dylan,
Neu!,
Arab on Radar,
Sun City Girls,
Grey Daturas,
the Normal,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pussy Galore,
Henry Cow,
Ken Boothe,
Brass Construction,
Lightning Bolt,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.