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 Czech Republic and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord 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 Dead Boys to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye 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 rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Black Pus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Angels of Light,
Wally Richardson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wire,
The Grass Roots,
Theoretical Girls,
Kayak,
Vainqueur,
Blossom Toes,
Index,
Jeff Lynne,
Guru Guru,
Lyres,
Sonny Sharrock,
Erasure,
The Kinks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Monks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Von Mondo,
Swell Maps,
Accadde A,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Beau Brummels,
Quadrant,
Donald Byrd,
Joyce Sims,
Eddi Front,
The Wake,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Velvet Underground,
Arthur Verocai,
The Count Five,
Aswad,
Bad Manners,
Blake Baxter,
Fear,
Albert Ayler,
Gichy Dan,
Man Parrish,
Chrome,
The Cowsills,
Ronnie Foster,
Aaron Thompson,
Ultravox,
DNA,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sight & Sound,
Nirvana,
Morten Harket,
Gang Green,
The Durutti Column,
Section 25,
Roxy Music,
Black Flag,
10cc,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
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.