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 Austria and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
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 arpeggiator 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 T. Rex to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
June of 44,
Mars,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cowsills,
Neil Young,
Lou Christie,
Kerrie Biddell,
Magma,
Sam Rivers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Michelle Simonal,
Suicide,
Icehouse,
Lakeside,
Pet Shop Boys,
Pantytec,
Ultra Naté,
Livin' Joy,
Excepter,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Barry Ungar,
Y Pants,
The Last Poets,
The Remains,
Eve St. Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Young Rascals,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jawbox,
Pierre Henry,
Flash Fearless,
The Buckinghams,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
T.S.O.L.,
Faraquet,
Jacques Brel,
The Fire Engines,
Minor Threat,
Curtis Mayfield,
Joyce Sims,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Oneida,
The Evens,
The Blackbyrds,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Joe Finger,
The Happenings,
The Index,
Joensuu 1685,
Sound Behaviour,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Colin Newman,
Fad Gadget,
Roxette,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Lydon,
Theoretical Girls,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Association,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.