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 Burundi and from Bologna.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 sitar 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 PIL to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Smog,
Delta 5,
Warsaw,
Thee Headcoats,
Subhumans,
Byron Stingily,
DJ Style,
Tommy Roe,
Skriet,
Simply Red,
Radio Birdman,
Fat Boys,
The Mojo Men,
Cheater Slicks,
Nirvana,
Crooked Eye,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Max Romeo,
Stereo Dub,
Derrick Morgan,
Eric Copeland,
F. McDonald,
Shoche,
Soul Sonic Force,
Susan Cadogan,
T. Rex,
Patti Smith,
Rekid,
Amon Düül,
Erasure,
Connie Case,
Rakim,
Soft Cell,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
48th St. Collective,
Blancmange,
Pussy Galore,
The Sonics,
Barrington Levy,
The Music Machine,
U.S. Maple,
The Seeds,
The Angels of Light,
Vainqueur,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Juan Atkins,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Heaven 17,
Ohio Players,
Little Man,
Letta Mbulu,
Arcadia,
Monks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Metal Thangz,
Barry Ungar,
Gastr Del Sol,
Mars,
The Trojans,
Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick.
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.