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 Brazil and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The American Breed to the rap 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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans 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?
Swell Maps,
Carl Craig,
Nas,
Sparks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Nico,
Interpol,
Prince Buster,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Mojo Men,
Faust,
Sister Nancy,
World's Most,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dennis Brown,
Avey Tare,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Funky Four + One,
Scientists,
DNA,
Davy DMX,
Make Up,
Little Man,
The Pretty Things,
Black Flag,
Idris Muhammad,
AZ,
Matthew Halsall,
Joey Negro,
Joensuu 1685,
Sun City Girls,
Jacob Miller,
DJ Sneak,
Andrew Hill,
Black Sheep,
Groovy Waters,
The Seeds,
The Invisible,
Accadde A,
Althea and Donna,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sällskapet,
The Smoke,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mark Hollis,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
La Düsseldorf,
Yaz,
Matthew Bourne,
Chris & Cosey,
The Beau Brummels,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lalann,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Camouflage,
The Electric Prunes,
The Angels of Light,
Altered Images,
Charles Mingus,
Easy Going,
Mo-Dettes,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.