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 Pakistan and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Talk Talk to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Depeche Mode,
The Index,
Gabor Szabo,
the Normal,
the Swans,
Skarface,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gong,
The Barracudas,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
L. Decosne,
The Sonics,
Aloha Tigers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Fire Engines,
Robert Wyatt,
Johnny Clarke,
Outsiders,
Connie Case,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Yellowson,
Royal Trux,
a-ha,
The Doobie Brothers,
Yazoo,
Juan Atkins,
ABBA,
Ludus,
Glambeats Corp.,
Moby Grape,
The Real Kids,
The Mojo Men,
Fatback Band,
The Evens,
World's Most,
The Dead C,
Nirvana,
Crooked Eye,
Pierre Henry,
Rod Modell,
John Coltrane,
Roxette,
Flash Fearless,
Main Source,
Mars,
Pussy Galore,
Prince Buster,
David Bowie,
The Busters,
Erasure,
Fugazi,
Kerrie Biddell,
Niagra,
Interpol,
the Human League,
Moebius,
The Gap Band,
The Monks,
The Cowsills,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.