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 Norway and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the grunge 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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Average White Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sister Nancy,
Skriet,
Guru Guru,
The J.B.'s,
The Flesh Eaters,
T. Rex,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gang of Four,
Japan,
DJ Sneak,
Masters at Work,
Glenn Branca,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tommy Roe,
Schoolly D,
Minny Pops,
Scientists,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Fire Engines,
Sonic Youth,
Lightning Bolt,
Black Sheep,
Gang Starr,
FM Einheit,
The Names,
the Soft Cell,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cameo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Underground Resistance,
Eden Ahbez,
Saccharine Trust,
Delon & Dalcan,
Malaria!,
Letta Mbulu,
The Residents,
The Slackers,
Hasil Adkins,
The Knickerbockers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Boz Scaggs,
Barrington Levy,
Aural Exciters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Stetsasonic,
The Fugs,
Q and Not U,
Buzzcocks,
Organ,
Hot Snakes,
Delta 5,
Fugazi,
Bronski Beat,
The Durutti Column,
Bill Wells,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pantaleimon,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.