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 Fiji and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Saints to the dance 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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
The Names,
Grauzone,
The Cure,
The Smoke,
Inner City,
Marc Almond,
The Mummies,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Alphaville,
Ice-T,
Connie Case,
F. McDonald,
E-Dancer,
Wire,
Sister Nancy,
LL Cool J,
Crime,
the Normal,
Black Moon,
the Bar-Kays,
David Axelrod,
Marvin Gaye,
Howard Jones,
Pole,
Kerrie Biddell,
Brick,
Freddie Wadling,
Kenny Larkin,
Pussy Galore,
In Retrospect,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moebius,
World's Most,
Tears for Fears,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mars,
Magma,
The Detroit Cobras,
Index,
The Gladiators,
The Litter,
Easy Going,
Kerri Chandler,
Sex Pistols,
Lightning Bolt,
The Victims,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Association,
Mantronix,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eli Mardock,
Hoover,
The Last Poets,
Crash Course in Science,
Niagra,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cowsills,
Scratch Acid,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mark Hollis,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Visage,
Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani.
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.