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 Kuwait and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Moleskins to the grunge 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Scan 7,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Spoonie Gee,
Supertramp,
X-Ray Spex,
Oneida,
The Tremeloes,
Maurizio,
Alice Coltrane,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mark Hollis,
Franke,
Scott Walker,
Bobby Sherman,
Gang of Four,
China Crisis,
Royal Trux,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jerry's Kids,
The Blackbyrds,
Brand Nubian,
Inner City,
Oblivians,
Underground Resistance,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jeff Mills,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kayak,
Rakim,
Davy DMX,
Kenny Larkin,
ABC,
Skarface,
Leonard Cohen,
Buzzcocks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Intrusion,
Ten City,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Radiopuhelimet,
Depeche Mode,
Kevin Saunderson,
Howard Jones,
Lindisfarne,
Crash Course in Science,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Duran Duran,
AZ,
The Index,
Agent Orange,
Pere Ubu,
The Monks,
Lightning Bolt,
Sight & Sound,
Electric Prunes,
The Gun Club,
Alison Limerick,
The Dave Clark Five,
Index,
Vladislav Delay,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.