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 Belarus and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 chamberlin 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 Sex Pistols to the jazz 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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Suburban Knight,
Gong,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Sonics,
Silicon Teens,
Aloha Tigers,
Avey Tare,
Popol Vuh,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dave Gahan,
Interpol,
The Buckinghams,
The New Christs,
Hardrive,
The Shadows of Knight,
Spandau Ballet,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Zapp,
E-Dancer,
Brand Nubian,
Deadbeat,
Aswad,
The Saints,
The Last Poets,
Shoche,
The Human League,
Radiohead,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Human League,
Motorama,
Big Daddy Kane,
Radiopuhelimet,
Neil Young,
Surgeon,
the Association,
Gang Starr,
Second Layer,
The Residents,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Delta 5,
The Gun Club,
Amon Düül II,
New Age Steppers,
China Crisis,
Sandy B,
The Cramps,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
MDC,
Duran Duran,
Maleditus Sound,
Saccharine Trust,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Magazine,
Ultra Naté,
Soft Machine,
Nico,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Faraquet,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.