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 Japan and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Wire 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 The Smoke. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Saccharine Trust,
Gichy Dan,
The Angels of Light,
Albert Ayler,
Animal Collective,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Toni Rubio,
The Searchers,
MDC,
Tomorrow,
JFA,
China Crisis,
Graham Central Station,
Can,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barry Ungar,
Sonic Youth,
Fatback Band,
Cameo,
The Wake,
Echospace,
Minnie Riperton,
Jacob Miller,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang of Four,
Hot Snakes,
Porter Ricks,
Swans,
Lalo Schifrin,
Mantronix,
Jesper Dahlback,
Depeche Mode,
Ohio Players,
Brothers Johnson,
Bluetip,
Royal Trux,
UT,
Josef K,
Tubeway Army,
Mark Hollis,
Stetsasonic,
Freddie Wadling,
Pere Ubu,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Barrington Levy,
Neu!,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Judy Mowatt,
New York Dolls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gong,
David Bowie,
H. Thieme,
Maurizio,
Sound Behaviour,
Pagans,
Y Pants,
the Slits,
Rapeman,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.