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 Samoa and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 arpeggiator 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 Young Rascals to the rock 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
The Cure,
The Evens,
One Last Wish,
Hot Snakes,
Duran Duran,
Slave,
Blancmange,
Black Flag,
Davy DMX,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Associates,
Sound Behaviour,
China Crisis,
Guru Guru,
The Neon Judgement,
cv313,
Suburban Knight,
Cluster,
Lindisfarne,
John Coltrane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pussy Galore,
Negative Approach,
Soft Machine,
Sex Pistols,
Johnny Clarke,
The Smiths,
Country Teasers,
Anthony Braxton,
the Sonics,
Roger Hodgson,
Ronan,
James White and The Blacks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Easy Going,
June Days,
Bill Wells,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nas,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Faust,
The Five Americans,
Dave Gahan,
Ultravox,
Barry Ungar,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rhythm & Sound,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Public Enemy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sonny Sharrock,
Letta Mbulu,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bang On A Can,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Underground Resistance,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.