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 Guinea-Bissau and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rapeman to the disco 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 Ohio Players. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
B.T. Express,
Joy Division,
Arcadia,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Busters,
Joe Smooth,
The Red Krayola,
Marmalade,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Josef K,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Blackbyrds,
Albert Ayler,
The Angels of Light,
Stiv Bators,
Piero Umiliani,
Fugazi,
Dark Day,
Das Ding,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eden Ahbez,
Susan Cadogan,
Sex Pistols,
Second Layer,
Lyres,
John Coltrane,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Cramps,
48th St. Collective,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Bar-Kays,
Wings,
D'Angelo,
Thee Headcoats,
R.M.O.,
Lucky Dragons,
Quantec,
Radiohead,
Henry Cow,
Mission of Burma,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
MDC,
Absolute Body Control,
Gang of Four,
10cc,
The Star Department,
The New Christs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rapeman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Misunderstood,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.