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 Tunisia and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Arcadia to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Heaven 17,
The Selecter,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wire,
Hot Snakes,
F. McDonald,
Scion,
Throbbing Gristle,
Agitation Free,
The Techniques,
Interpol,
Pylon,
Eurythmics,
cv313,
Patti Smith,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Vogues,
Bluetip,
Porter Ricks,
Don Cherry,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Misunderstood,
The Beau Brummels,
Icehouse,
World's Most,
Guru Guru,
Vladislav Delay,
Marine Girls,
Q and Not U,
Juan Atkins,
the Germs,
Warren Ellis,
The Names,
Zero Boys,
Crime,
Flamin' Groovies,
FM Einheit,
Donny Hathaway,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rakim,
Flipper,
Flash Fearless,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Crooked Eye,
Gang Starr,
Slick Rick,
the Association,
Prince Buster,
Roxy Music,
Mandrill,
Marc Almond,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bill Wells,
Livin' Joy,
Colin Newman,
Dennis Brown,
Neil Young,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
New Age Steppers,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.