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 Equatorial Guinea and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 spring reverb 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Glenn Branca,
Rakim,
Robert Hood,
Little Man,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Vogues,
Metal Thangz,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Wasted Youth,
Black Bananas,
Bang On A Can,
Bob Dylan,
Livin' Joy,
Arcadia,
Andrew Hill,
Neu!,
Echospace,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Saints,
Iggy Pop,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nik Kershaw,
Eric B and Rakim,
Easy Going,
Desert Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Index,
Infiniti,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bush Tetras,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ohio Players,
John Foxx,
The Dead C,
Tropical Tobacco,
New Order,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Barbara Tucker,
Model 500,
Grauzone,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Beau Brummels,
Ultra Naté,
Joe Smooth,
Accadde A,
Bootsy Collins,
Quando Quango,
Hot Snakes,
Technova,
World's Most,
The Trojans,
The Five Americans,
Sandy B,
The Monks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Human League,
This Heat,
Fat Boys,
Niagra,
Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul.
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.