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 Mexico and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Von Mondo to the funk 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby 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 punk 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Grauzone,
Stetsasonic,
Robert Wyatt,
Pussy Galore,
Camberwell Now,
F. McDonald,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pole,
The Sonics,
Absolute Body Control,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Sheep,
Dead Boys,
Judy Mowatt,
The Walker Brothers,
Byron Stingily,
Liliput,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Black Dice,
Sun Ra,
The New Christs,
John Cale,
PIL,
ABBA,
Steve Hackett,
Scratch Acid,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gabor Szabo,
Oneida,
Nico,
Saccharine Trust,
Boredoms,
Bill Near,
Pylon,
Magma,
Reagan Youth,
Arcadia,
Brand Nubian,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sonic Youth,
Bobby Womack,
Beasts of Bourbon,
David McCallum,
Dawn Penn,
The Human League,
Lindisfarne,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Chris & Cosey,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Stooges,
Nas,
Aural Exciters,
Rhythm & Sound,
Danielle Patucci,
The Remains,
CMW,
Pet Shop Boys,
Index,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.