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 Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fear to the punk 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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Dirtbombs,
The Misunderstood,
FM Einheit,
Tomorrow,
Bobby Sherman,
The Walker Brothers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Leaves,
Shuggie Otis,
Sarah Menescal,
Zero Boys,
The Residents,
Von Mondo,
Urselle,
Eden Ahbez,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Barry Ungar,
Lou Christie,
Ludus,
Davy DMX,
Kenny Larkin,
Swans,
Steve Hackett,
Symarip,
Talk Talk,
Piero Umiliani,
Moebius,
Public Enemy,
Young Marble Giants,
Glenn Branca,
Joey Negro,
Graham Central Station,
The United States of America,
Gang Green,
Gang of Four,
Sun Ra,
PIL,
Accadde A,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nils Olav,
Visage,
Amon Düül II,
Fluxion,
The Real Kids,
Alice Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
Todd Rundgren,
Faust,
Metal Thangz,
Popol Vuh,
Echospace,
Y Pants,
Crooked Eye,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Flesh Eaters,
Flipper,
Icehouse,
Rakim,
Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd..
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.