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 Costa Rica and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 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 The United States of America to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Raincoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Interpol,
Derrick Morgan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Siglo XX,
Thompson Twins,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tomorrow,
Lightning Bolt,
The Divine Comedy,
Jerry's Kids,
Wasted Youth,
Harry Pussy,
Scott Walker,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pantytec,
Banda Bassotti,
B.T. Express,
Joe Smooth,
Guru Guru,
The Barracudas,
Sparks,
Albert Ayler,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
LL Cool J,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Johnny Clarke,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Television,
Warsaw,
Pole,
Derrick May,
The Names,
John Foxx,
Blossom Toes,
Urselle,
The New Christs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Standells,
Bauhaus,
Colin Newman,
Eurythmics,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Busters,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Thee Headcoats,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Depeche Mode,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Fortunes,
Slave,
The Angels of Light,
Brick,
Amon Düül II,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
DJ Sneak,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Boz Scaggs,
The Young Rascals,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.