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 Slovakia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the clarinet 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 PIL to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hashim,
The Gladiators,
The Barracudas,
The Durutti Column,
Smog,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Radio Birdman,
Brick,
Ludus,
Royal Trux,
Fear,
Parry Music,
The Victims,
Bill Wells,
Dave Gahan,
The Move,
The Cure,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Chris Corsano,
Harpers Bizarre,
Los Fastidios,
Althea and Donna,
The Cramps,
Das Ding,
Dead Boys,
Deadbeat,
L. Decosne,
Harry Pussy,
Sandy B,
Piero Umiliani,
Bootsy Collins,
Kool Moe Dee,
Byron Stingily,
John Lydon,
Zero Boys,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Man Eating Sloth,
Amon Düül II,
Procol Harum,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Radiohead,
A Certain Ratio,
Charles Mingus,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nico,
Jeff Mills,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Doors,
Black Pus,
Marvin Gaye,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
World's Most,
The Remains,
The Vogues,
Tropical Tobacco,
Robert Wyatt,
Joyce Sims,
Nirvana,
Minny Pops,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gregory Isaacs,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.