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 Tunisia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bremen.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Terry Callier to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Agent Orange,
Aloha Tigers,
DJ Sneak,
Marc Almond,
Swell Maps,
Jandek,
Television,
Chris Corsano,
Severed Heads,
Arab on Radar,
Bobby Sherman,
Gong,
Ohio Players,
Thee Headcoats,
Mr. Review,
Andrew Hill,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Happenings,
Mission of Burma,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wolf Eyes,
Harmonia,
Gregory Isaacs,
Crime,
The Index,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Trojans,
Barbara Tucker,
Heaven 17,
The Leaves,
Jeru the Damaja,
ABBA,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Siglo XX,
X-101,
The Pop Group,
MC5,
John Holt,
L. Decosne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Slits,
Glambeats Corp.,
Smog,
Quando Quango,
Donald Byrd,
kango's stein massive,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Fugs,
Lower 48,
Adolescents,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Magma,
Dawn Penn,
Oneida,
Sandy B,
Bang On A Can,
The Divine Comedy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Barclay James Harvest,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.