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 United Kingdom and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Buzzcocks to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Toasters. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rhythm & Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
The Searchers,
Rekid,
Monolake,
Symarip,
Outsiders,
Spandau Ballet,
Severed Heads,
Colin Newman,
DNA,
Buzzcocks,
The Kinks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Guru Guru,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sugar Minott,
Rotary Connection,
Mark Hollis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lalann,
Brick,
Mo-Dettes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Erasure,
Tom Boy,
Pantaleimon,
Newcleus,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Buckinghams,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Motions,
Public Enemy,
New Age Steppers,
Rufus Thomas,
Japan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bob Dylan,
Ice-T,
T.S.O.L.,
Sandy B,
The Dirtbombs,
Radiohead,
The Fugs,
The Monks,
Mr. Review,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Gories,
L. Decosne,
The Offenders,
Unwound,
Donald Byrd,
Accadde A,
Eve St. Jones,
Young Marble Giants,
James White and The Blacks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Unrelated Segments,
Donny Hathaway,
The Fire Engines,
JFA,
Eli Mardock,
Rapeman,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.