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 Lebanon and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ 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 T.S.O.L. to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Chris Corsano,
Jeff Mills,
R.M.O.,
The Angels of Light,
Nico,
Suburban Knight,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Zeros,
Magma,
Kenny Larkin,
Outsiders,
Negative Approach,
Crooked Eye,
Alison Limerick,
New Age Steppers,
Television Personalities,
Pylon,
Erykah Badu,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Davy DMX,
Sun City Girls,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Interpol,
DNA,
Subhumans,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ultra Naté,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Foxx,
David Bowie,
Animal Collective,
Kaleidoscope,
Hot Snakes,
The Grass Roots,
John Lydon,
Sam Rivers,
The Residents,
Gichy Dan,
This Heat,
Michelle Simonal,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sparks,
The Invisible,
Brand Nubian,
New York Dolls,
Donny Hathaway,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Whodini,
Lucky Dragons,
Sex Pistols,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Barracudas,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Trojans,
Gabor Szabo,
Agitation Free,
June Days,
Curtis Mayfield,
Man Parrish,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.