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 Egypt and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Move to the grunge 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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool Moe Dee 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Bauhaus,
Desert Stars,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cure,
Shuggie Otis,
Soft Cell,
Scott Walker,
Moby Grape,
Ken Boothe,
Marcia Griffiths,
Livin' Joy,
Mars,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
cv313,
Girls At Our Best!,
Hot Snakes,
Ice-T,
The Neon Judgement,
Slave,
D'Angelo,
Nick Fraelich,
Parry Music,
Guru Guru,
John Holt,
Letta Mbulu,
The Doobie Brothers,
DNA,
Terry Callier,
The Doors,
Kaleidoscope,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Normal,
Don Cherry,
a-ha,
The Kinks,
Eli Mardock,
Slick Rick,
Henry Cow,
Banda Bassotti,
Cheater Slicks,
Peter and Kerry,
Tomorrow,
The Fugs,
Flash Fearless,
Section 25,
Cluster,
K-Klass,
Swans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Angry Samoans,
Technova,
Barry Ungar,
Yaz,
Stiv Bators,
The Real Kids,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Zeros,
Gerry Rafferty,
KRS-One,
Los Fastidios,
Dave Gahan,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.