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 Turkey and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sisters of Mercy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
The Vogues,
Parry Music,
The Gories,
Symarip,
The Saints,
John Cale,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Al Stewart,
Steve Hackett,
The Birthday Party,
Barry Ungar,
The Leaves,
Basic Channel,
Hardrive,
Dawn Penn,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nico,
Babytalk,
Tom Boy,
Chrome,
Cameo,
Fad Gadget,
David McCallum,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Monks,
Harry Pussy,
Rosa Yemen,
Dennis Brown,
The Slackers,
Thee Headcoats,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pulsallama,
Gichy Dan,
Aaron Thompson,
Oneida,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Durutti Column,
Kaleidoscope,
Bizarre Inc.,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pagans,
E-Dancer,
The Trojans,
Curtis Mayfield,
Livin' Joy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Motorama,
Fugazi,
Khruangbin,
Rapeman,
Sex Pistols,
The J.B.'s,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Fugs,
Porter Ricks,
Lucky Dragons,
DJ Sneak,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.