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 Fiji and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Negative Approach to the grunge 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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Scan 7 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul II Soul 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Maleditus Sound,
Pantaleimon,
Severed Heads,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Camberwell Now,
Harmonia,
Barbara Tucker,
The Slits,
Jacob Miller,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bobby Womack,
Magazine,
Lalann,
Organ,
The Slackers,
Anakelly,
The Litter,
Royal Trux,
Shuggie Otis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Throbbing Gristle,
Theoretical Girls,
The Kinks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rosa Yemen,
Cymande,
Zero Boys,
Zapp,
The Smiths,
Vladislav Delay,
Panda Bear,
Alison Limerick,
Intrusion,
The Toasters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bill Wells,
The Pop Group,
Glenn Branca,
Fugazi,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Negative Approach,
Man Parrish,
Aural Exciters,
Sonny Sharrock,
New York Dolls,
The Monks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Porter Ricks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Inner City,
Roger Hodgson,
Heaven 17,
Mo-Dettes,
The Barracudas,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mandrill,
Interpol,
Marvin Gaye,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.