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 Czech Republic and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lightning Bolt to the punk 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
The Blackbyrds,
Rhythm & Sound,
Silicon Teens,
Blake Baxter,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Clear Light,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eli Mardock,
Agitation Free,
Reagan Youth,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Marc Almond,
Gregory Isaacs,
Adolescents,
Jawbox,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Liliput,
Supertramp,
Michelle Simonal,
Brothers Johnson,
This Heat,
The Searchers,
Rotary Connection,
Hoover,
Niagra,
Tears for Fears,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minor Threat,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cecil Taylor,
Monks,
Gichy Dan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scan 7,
Pussy Galore,
The Grass Roots,
CMW,
Henry Cow,
Spandau Ballet,
One Last Wish,
Black Bananas,
Don Cherry,
Minutemen,
Lucky Dragons,
Goldenarms,
Amon Düül,
Siglo XX,
K-Klass,
Marine Girls,
kango's stein massive,
Howard Jones,
Reuben Wilson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Barrington Levy,
Ultravox,
The J.B.'s,
Bad Manners,
Sandy B,
Junior Murvin,
The Beau Brummels,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.