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 Latvia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lee Hazlewood to the dance 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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Harry Pussy,
Fugazi,
Sparks,
Grey Daturas,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sun City Girls,
Darondo,
The Last Poets,
The Red Krayola,
Tim Buckley,
Joey Negro,
Jesper Dahlback,
Maleditus Sound,
Blake Baxter,
Second Layer,
Hot Snakes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Funkadelic,
The Electric Prunes,
Dual Sessions,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sex Pistols,
Kurtis Blow,
Cheater Slicks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Scion,
Cameo,
Vladislav Delay,
Deakin,
Siglo XX,
Talk Talk,
Morten Harket,
Youth Brigade,
Sam Rivers,
Spandau Ballet,
It's A Beautiful Day,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mars,
Spoonie Gee,
Byron Stingily,
Babytalk,
Lindisfarne,
Henry Cow,
The Residents,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tommy Roe,
Lucky Dragons,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lou Christie,
Tubeway Army,
The New Christs,
Alphaville,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ituana,
The Move,
Rotary Connection,
Gichy Dan,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.