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 East Timor and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the rock 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 Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultravox,
Bauhaus,
Man Parrish,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mission of Burma,
Maurizio,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Angels of Light,
Intrusion,
Sun Ra,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lou Reed,
Terrestrial Tones,
Matthew Bourne,
Judy Mowatt,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Harry Pussy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Black Moon,
Icehouse,
the Slits,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Dave Clark Five,
Los Fastidios,
Tim Buckley,
Avey Tare,
Das Ding,
The Leaves,
Neu!,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Adolescents,
E-Dancer,
Infiniti,
Eurythmics,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Blossom Toes,
The American Breed,
Davy DMX,
Todd Terry,
Ronan,
Clear Light,
Spandau Ballet,
Japan,
Todd Rundgren,
Make Up,
Fat Boys,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Yazoo,
Electric Prunes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Unrelated Segments,
Mark Hollis,
Country Teasers,
Duran Duran,
Television Personalities,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Swell Maps,
Tres Demented,
the Association,
John Lydon,
Sixth Finger,
Audionom,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.