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 Colombia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Toronto and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the rock 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick Morgan 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Theoretical Girls,
Albert Ayler,
Japan,
The Busters,
Reagan Youth,
Altered Images,
Sonic Youth,
Agitation Free,
Scientists,
Eurythmics,
Agent Orange,
Susan Cadogan,
Blake Baxter,
Sound Behaviour,
Mantronix,
Kerri Chandler,
Althea and Donna,
Faraquet,
These Immortal Souls,
The Human League,
Cymande,
Public Enemy,
Trumans Water,
Boz Scaggs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Golliwogs,
Rekid,
Blancmange,
Scan 7,
Tomorrow,
Piero Umiliani,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crooked Eye,
Loose Ends,
kango's stein massive,
Marc Almond,
Magazine,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pharoah Sanders,
Oneida,
Scion,
Fatback Band,
Alison Limerick,
Heaven 17,
Funkadelic,
Rod Modell,
The Birthday Party,
Panda Bear,
Sly & The Family Stone,
June Days,
Man Parrish,
the Soft Cell,
Bobby Sherman,
Roger Hodgson,
Model 500,
Average White Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Darondo,
Derrick Morgan,
The New Christs,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.