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 East Timor and from Salvador.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Camberwell Now to the rock 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 Gichy Dan. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Moebius,
Parry Music,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ludus,
Accadde A,
John Holt,
The Fuzztones,
Mantronix,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Lydon,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Sonics,
Surgeon,
Barbara Tucker,
The Velvet Underground,
B.T. Express,
Motorama,
the Soft Cell,
Soft Cell,
Bootsy Collins,
Minor Threat,
Thompson Twins,
Flipper,
Tommy Roe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Alison Limerick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Techniques,
The Index,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Suicide,
Make Up,
Hot Snakes,
The Gladiators,
Pierre Henry,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Zeros,
T. Rex,
Desert Stars,
Camberwell Now,
World's Most,
Sugar Minott,
Barry Ungar,
Banda Bassotti,
The Golliwogs,
Sam Rivers,
Todd Rundgren,
Inner City,
Duran Duran,
Popol Vuh,
The Wake,
The Gun Club,
Lalann,
Junior Murvin,
Tubeway Army,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Whodini,
Franke,
Stereo Dub,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.