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 Djibouti and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 linndrum 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 Steve Hackett to the crunk 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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
James White and The Blacks,
Buzzcocks,
Robert Hood,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pulsallama,
Blancmange,
The Fugs,
The Searchers,
Arcadia,
Pole,
Crash Course in Science,
Hoover,
New Age Steppers,
Minutemen,
Slave,
U.S. Maple,
Monks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
June of 44,
Ohio Players,
The Leaves,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Germs,
Ken Boothe,
Todd Terry,
The Young Rascals,
Hot Snakes,
Derrick Morgan,
Avey Tare,
Matthew Bourne,
Marcia Griffiths,
Vainqueur,
Fugazi,
Boredoms,
Mad Mike,
Janne Schatter,
Ponytail,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Tomorrow,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mantronix,
Rotary Connection,
Harmonia,
Electric Prunes,
Lalann,
Gabor Szabo,
The Victims,
KRS-One,
Faraquet,
The Names,
LL Cool J,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Chrome,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Minnie Riperton,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pagans,
Lower 48,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.