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 Paraguay and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 clarinet 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 James White and The Blacks to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 the Germs. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Alice Coltrane,
Swans,
Groovy Waters,
John Lydon,
the Soft Cell,
Idris Muhammad,
Soft Machine,
Unrelated Segments,
The Leaves,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fatback Band,
Funkadelic,
Eric B and Rakim,
Drive Like Jehu,
Al Stewart,
The Cowsills,
Maurizio,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Excepter,
Sarah Menescal,
Darondo,
Cluster,
Anakelly,
The Cramps,
Deakin,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dennis Brown,
X-101,
Henry Cow,
La Düsseldorf,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Birthday Party,
Eurythmics,
the Association,
Skarface,
Whodini,
Barbara Tucker,
Althea and Donna,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crispy Ambulance,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Offenders,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ten City,
John Holt,
Eric Copeland,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Techniques,
Lebanon Hanover,
Stetsasonic,
Fluxion,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sex Pistols,
Au Pairs,
Fad Gadget,
Barrington Levy,
The Blues Magoos,
Scratch Acid,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth.
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.