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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Excepter to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Searchers,
Make Up,
The Gap Band,
Los Fastidios,
Swans,
Rapeman,
Prince Buster,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stereo Dub,
Warsaw,
Spandau Ballet,
Brick,
Parry Music,
Matthew Bourne,
Roger Hodgson,
ABC,
Theoretical Girls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Trojans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joe Finger,
Charles Mingus,
AZ,
Bobby Womack,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Blues Magoos,
The Slits,
The Divine Comedy,
Flash Fearless,
The Gories,
The Skatalites,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Roxette,
Todd Terry,
Tears for Fears,
Mandrill,
MC5,
Anakelly,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Camberwell Now,
The Black Dice,
Amazonics,
Alton Ellis,
Judy Mowatt,
Tommy Roe,
Hot Snakes,
Glenn Branca,
Sonny Sharrock,
Reagan Youth,
The Motions,
Easy Going,
The Walker Brothers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Josef K,
Robert Görl,
Blancmange,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Techniques,
Brothers Johnson,
E-Dancer,
Qualms,
Barry Ungar,
Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey, Chris & Cosey.
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.