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 Philippines and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gichy Dan to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk 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?
Yaz,
Stiv Bators,
Michelle Simonal,
The Grass Roots,
Technova,
In Retrospect,
The Leaves,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Vladislav Delay,
Pulsallama,
Los Fastidios,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Detroit Cobras,
Aswad,
Deadbeat,
The Shadows of Knight,
Crooked Eye,
The Selecter,
Kerri Chandler,
Minny Pops,
Ponytail,
Rosa Yemen,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Normal,
Grauzone,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Radio Birdman,
Porter Ricks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Standells,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Magazine,
Pantytec,
The Names,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Make Up,
This Heat,
Electric Prunes,
Suburban Knight,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Robert Hood,
The Velvet Underground,
Cluster,
Moebius,
Stockholm Monsters,
KRS-One,
Pantaleimon,
New York Dolls,
Outsiders,
Fatback Band,
Circle Jerks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pet Shop Boys,
Tropical Tobacco,
The J.B.'s,
Barrington Levy,
Minutemen,
Pylon,
Kenny Larkin,
Hoover,
Delta 5,
Banda Bassotti,
The Slackers,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.