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 Lebanon and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 Tropical Tobacco to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Moody Blues,
Donny Hathaway,
Lightning Bolt,
Albert Ayler,
Lungfish,
Chrome,
Fat Boys,
The Gap Band,
The Modern Lovers,
Barbara Tucker,
Schoolly D,
Boz Scaggs,
Intrusion,
The Busters,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Oneida,
Joe Smooth,
The Human League,
Marc Almond,
Rekid,
The Gun Club,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gastr Del Sol,
Man Eating Sloth,
Neil Young,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Loose Ends,
Lee Hazlewood,
June Days,
Lou Christie,
Warren Ellis,
Skarface,
James White and The Blacks,
Thee Headcoats,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Saccharine Trust,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Kinks,
The Monochrome Set,
The Dave Clark Five,
Altered Images,
The Gories,
B.T. Express,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ornette Coleman,
Sex Pistols,
Pussy Galore,
Pere Ubu,
Vainqueur,
Minutemen,
Drexciya,
Prince Buster,
Boogie Down Productions,
Crime,
The Cowsills,
Con Funk Shun,
Don Cherry,
Zapp,
Bill Wells,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Procol Harum,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.