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 New Zealand and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 8 Eyed Spy to the rap 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 The Smiths. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Accadde A,
The J.B.'s,
John Coltrane,
Mr. Review,
R.M.O.,
Zero Boys,
Theoretical Girls,
Rekid,
L. Decosne,
The Offenders,
Spandau Ballet,
The Stooges,
Prince Buster,
Sixth Finger,
Gil Scott Heron,
Blossom Toes,
Niagra,
Skaos,
Delta 5,
Black Bananas,
MDC,
Judy Mowatt,
Fugazi,
Fatback Band,
Roy Ayers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Unwound,
Shuggie Otis,
Rod Modell,
Patti Smith,
U.S. Maple,
Fat Boys,
The Moody Blues,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Drexciya,
The Seeds,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dennis Brown,
Flash Fearless,
Black Flag,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kool Moe Dee,
Can,
Audionom,
Kerrie Biddell,
Surgeon,
The Mummies,
Siglo XX,
Radiopuhelimet,
Juan Atkins,
The American Breed,
Derrick Morgan,
Amon Düül,
Cybotron,
The Real Kids,
Metal Thangz,
Pole,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.