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 Barbados and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the disco 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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Absolute Body Control,
Prince Buster,
The Blues Magoos,
Suicide,
Agent Orange,
LL Cool J,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Cameo,
Dawn Penn,
The Fugs,
Ohio Players,
Patti Smith,
Laurel Aitken,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Barbara Tucker,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Magma,
Anakelly,
Swell Maps,
Scan 7,
Johnny Clarke,
Toni Rubio,
Pussy Galore,
June of 44,
Minor Threat,
Skarface,
Thompson Twins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Popol Vuh,
Tomorrow,
Archie Shepp,
The Mummies,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kayak,
Johnny Osbourne,
Howard Jones,
the Germs,
The Red Krayola,
Camberwell Now,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Hasil Adkins,
The Birthday Party,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fatback Band,
Bobby Womack,
The Cramps,
Danielle Patucci,
Donald Byrd,
Hashim,
Boogie Down Productions,
Junior Murvin,
The Divine Comedy,
X-Ray Spex,
X-101,
The Five Americans,
Aural Exciters,
Bobby Byrd,
Grey Daturas,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.