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 Panama and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the crunk 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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a AZ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Unwound,
Johnny Osbourne,
Wasted Youth,
ABBA,
John Cale,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Arab on Radar,
Pantaleimon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Joensuu 1685,
Hasil Adkins,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobby Sherman,
Wally Richardson,
ABC,
UT,
Amon Düül II,
the Human League,
David Bowie,
Lalann,
Dorothy Ashby,
Accadde A,
Boz Scaggs,
Minutemen,
DNA,
Second Layer,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ronan,
The Raincoats,
the Swans,
Duran Duran,
Tropical Tobacco,
Thompson Twins,
The Smiths,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kerrie Biddell,
Malaria!,
Erykah Badu,
Dave Gahan,
Donald Byrd,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Leaves,
Kayak,
Eli Mardock,
The Mummies,
Josef K,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Make Up,
the Fania All-Stars,
Minor Threat,
Gichy Dan,
Flipper,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Essential Logic,
The Mojo Men,
Mission of Burma,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kas Product,
John Coltrane,
The Smoke,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.