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 China and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 Fad Gadget to the crunk 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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Marc Almond,
The Litter,
The United States of America,
Kerri Chandler,
Stereo Dub,
Barry Ungar,
Johnny Clarke,
Michelle Simonal,
Roger Hodgson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Duran Duran,
Wings,
Ice-T,
Alison Limerick,
Drive Like Jehu,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Gun Club,
Tom Boy,
Groovy Waters,
Yaz,
Minny Pops,
Ten City,
Kool Moe Dee,
B.T. Express,
Jacques Brel,
the Bar-Kays,
John Cale,
Skaos,
Pantaleimon,
Cecil Taylor,
Hashim,
Public Image Ltd.,
Warsaw,
Rosa Yemen,
Glambeats Corp.,
Spandau Ballet,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sam Rivers,
Eve St. Jones,
Graham Central Station,
Kenny Larkin,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Glenn Branca,
Todd Terry,
The Modern Lovers,
Sugar Minott,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Slackers,
Sound Behaviour,
The Tremeloes,
Surgeon,
Grandmaster Flash,
Radio Birdman,
Lucky Dragons,
Roxy Music,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gichy Dan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wasted Youth,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Pus,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.