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 Vanuatu and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Laurel Aitken to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nik Kershaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Man Parrish,
The Durutti Column,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Red Krayola,
DJ Sneak,
Lakeside,
Sexual Harrassment,
F. McDonald,
Groovy Waters,
Funky Four + One,
Outsiders,
Davy DMX,
Monks,
Eric Copeland,
Pussy Galore,
Shuggie Otis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Can,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Slick Rick,
The Stooges,
The Cowsills,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thee Headcoats,
Deepchord,
Masters at Work,
Harry Pussy,
H. Thieme,
Roxette,
Aloha Tigers,
Marc Almond,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Smoke,
Jawbox,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gang Green,
Blake Baxter,
Ice-T,
Cameo,
Essential Logic,
Skarface,
The J.B.'s,
Easy Going,
Joe Smooth,
Severed Heads,
Soul II Soul,
Harpers Bizarre,
Donny Hathaway,
Janne Schatter,
Quando Quango,
Alton Ellis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Smiths,
John Cale,
Kayak,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Motions,
Hasil Adkins,
The Cure,
Unwound,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.