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 East Timor and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Unwound. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Reuben Wilson,
The Detroit Cobras,
Boredoms,
the Sonics,
Lower 48,
Toni Rubio,
The Modern Lovers,
John Foxx,
Marc Almond,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sonic Youth,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Metal Thangz,
Laurel Aitken,
X-101,
The Tremeloes,
Morten Harket,
The Mummies,
Brothers Johnson,
The Cramps,
Mo-Dettes,
Robert Wyatt,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
These Immortal Souls,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Harmonia,
Yellowson,
OOIOO,
The Five Americans,
F. McDonald,
Sarah Menescal,
Marine Girls,
Lyres,
ABBA,
Aswad,
Bad Manners,
Barbara Tucker,
Lucky Dragons,
Spoonie Gee,
Pet Shop Boys,
New York Dolls,
Symarip,
Silicon Teens,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Robert Hood,
Swans,
Ken Boothe,
Simply Red,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Donny Hathaway,
The Golliwogs,
Aural Exciters,
Juan Atkins,
The Seeds,
Procol Harum,
Adolescents,
The Doors,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.