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 Guinea-Bissau and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Gang Green to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Minny Pops. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen 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 electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Black Sheep,
Joe Smooth,
Soft Machine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Delon & Dalcan,
Smog,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Invisible,
Throbbing Gristle,
Johnny Clarke,
June Days,
Cal Tjader,
Grauzone,
Con Funk Shun,
Rosa Yemen,
CMW,
Radiopuhelimet,
Groovy Waters,
Rakim,
Josef K,
Delta 5,
The Remains,
World's Most,
Tommy Roe,
In Retrospect,
Pierre Henry,
Bob Dylan,
Niagra,
X-101,
Sällskapet,
Hoover,
Brothers Johnson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ohio Players,
The Young Rascals,
Scrapy,
Bobby Byrd,
Amon Düül,
Rapeman,
Terrestrial Tones,
Barbara Tucker,
Cluster,
Arthur Verocai,
Neil Young,
Altered Images,
The Angels of Light,
The Searchers,
Danielle Patucci,
The Slits,
Judy Mowatt,
Dennis Brown,
Dave Gahan,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Black Bananas,
Underground Resistance,
Erasure,
Minutemen,
Section 25,
Harry Pussy,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.