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 Portugal and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Marmalade to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Michelle Simonal,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gories,
The Trojans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Funkadelic,
Lyres,
The Black Dice,
Interpol,
B.T. Express,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bob Dylan,
Althea and Donna,
The Gun Club,
Tommy Roe,
The Velvet Underground,
Banda Bassotti,
8 Eyed Spy,
Maurizio,
UT,
Pere Ubu,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Deakin,
The Star Department,
Jacob Miller,
Zero Boys,
F. McDonald,
Joensuu 1685,
Sex Pistols,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soul II Soul,
Oneida,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bang On A Can,
Visage,
Avey Tare,
Stiv Bators,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mark Hollis,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Grass Roots,
Anakelly,
The Leaves,
Moebius,
Aaron Thompson,
Bobby Sherman,
Blossom Toes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Franke,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Walker Brothers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cal Tjader,
Boredoms,
Smog,
Joey Negro,
Easy Going,
The Misunderstood,
Warren Ellis,
The Human League,
Cabaret Voltaire,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.