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 Mongolia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 linndrum 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 The New Christs 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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
X-102,
Mr. Review,
Hasil Adkins,
The Mojo Men,
Organ,
The Sonics,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dawn Penn,
Todd Terry,
Public Image Ltd.,
Scan 7,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nils Olav,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Niagra,
Sam Rivers,
Bluetip,
The Doors,
Shoche,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Human League,
The Misunderstood,
Lungfish,
Tubeway Army,
Godley & Creme,
Minutemen,
Von Mondo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Oneida,
Crime,
Das Ding,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lou Reed,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Erykah Badu,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
JFA,
Pylon,
Mark Hollis,
Skriet,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joe Smooth,
Gang Green,
Bob Dylan,
Fear,
Letta Mbulu,
Erasure,
Con Funk Shun,
Slick Rick,
Minny Pops,
Robert Görl,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Malaria!,
Gichy Dan,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Radio Birdman,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.