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 Bhutan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Lindisfarne to the rap 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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Groovy Waters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Dave Gahan,
Wolf Eyes,
Chris & Cosey,
B.T. Express,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nik Kershaw,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Motions,
Make Up,
Alice Coltrane,
Scrapy,
Minutemen,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rufus Thomas,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Barry Ungar,
China Crisis,
Organ,
Radio Birdman,
The Slackers,
PIL,
The Pop Group,
The Divine Comedy,
Byron Stingily,
The New Christs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Soulsonic Force,
Bill Wells,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Essential Logic,
Kaleidoscope,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eli Mardock,
FM Einheit,
Josef K,
The Fugs,
48th St. Collective,
E-Dancer,
The Gladiators,
Pussy Galore,
Archie Shepp,
Mary Jane Girls,
Cymande,
Underground Resistance,
John Cale,
Television Personalities,
Grauzone,
Brothers Johnson,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Skatalites,
The Gun Club,
The Fall,
Blancmange,
The Beau Brummels,
Lakeside,
Roxette,
Sister Nancy,
Wings,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Glenn Branca,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.