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 South Africa and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Nation of Ulysses to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Danielle Patucci. All the underground hits.
All Erasure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Smog,
The Slits,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Boz Scaggs,
Steve Hackett,
K-Klass,
The Electric Prunes,
The Tremeloes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Black Moon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mad Mike,
Minutemen,
Monks,
Aaron Thompson,
Clear Light,
The Beau Brummels,
The Smoke,
The Fall,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Soft Cell,
Wolf Eyes,
Harry Pussy,
Television Personalities,
Marc Almond,
John Cale,
Cluster,
Sparks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Harpers Bizarre,
Quantec,
Rapeman,
Throbbing Gristle,
Faraquet,
Sixth Finger,
Soft Cell,
Sun City Girls,
Josef K,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
A Certain Ratio,
Mark Hollis,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Visage,
Marvin Gaye,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Barrington Levy,
DJ Sneak,
Section 25,
Wasted Youth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Das Ding,
Traffic Nightmare,
T. Rex,
Siglo XX,
Gang of Four,
June of 44,
Lyres,
Radiohead,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.