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 New Zealand and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bang On A Can to the disco 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 Von Mondo. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Fugazi,
Slave,
T.S.O.L.,
The Fuzztones,
Interpol,
Silicon Teens,
Connie Case,
Barry Ungar,
10cc,
The New Christs,
Ornette Coleman,
The Slits,
Radio Birdman,
Marine Girls,
Audionom,
Jerry's Kids,
The Real Kids,
The Raincoats,
The Martian,
Pharoah Sanders,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Residents,
Mo-Dettes,
Surgeon,
Magma,
New York Dolls,
Scott Walker,
Marvin Gaye,
Section 25,
KRS-One,
Sandy B,
Little Man,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kurtis Blow,
ABC,
Bobby Byrd,
Ronan,
The Gories,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Yazoo,
Patti Smith,
a-ha,
Agitation Free,
The Misunderstood,
David McCallum,
Dual Sessions,
Glenn Branca,
Rod Modell,
Soft Cell,
Marmalade,
Ossler,
Trumans Water,
Wire,
Siglo XX,
Bill Wells,
Joe Smooth,
UT,
Amon Düül II,
Royal Trux,
Gichy Dan,
Lightning Bolt,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.