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 Syria and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Excepter to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
The Mummies,
Radio Birdman,
The J.B.'s,
Quantec,
Masters at Work,
Oblivians,
Absolute Body Control,
Frankie Knuckles,
Monks,
the Bar-Kays,
Can,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Grauzone,
Flash Fearless,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pere Ubu,
Iggy Pop,
Ponytail,
Toni Rubio,
Chris & Cosey,
Theoretical Girls,
Eden Ahbez,
Funky Four + One,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sex Pistols,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Saccharine Trust,
Yazoo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cameo,
OOIOO,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eurythmics,
Rufus Thomas,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nico,
Skriet,
The Last Poets,
Bill Near,
Kurtis Blow,
the Soft Cell,
Sonic Youth,
The Stooges,
The Martian,
Cluster,
Fela Kuti,
KRS-One,
Boredoms,
Subhumans,
Prince Buster,
The Fortunes,
Q and Not U,
Gastr Del Sol,
Albert Ayler,
The Knickerbockers,
Scott Walker,
Tres Demented,
The Cramps,
Hasil Adkins,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.