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 Morocco and from Toronto.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Big Daddy Kane to the grime 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans 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?
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mandrill,
Todd Rundgren,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
T. Rex,
Glambeats Corp.,
Anakelly,
the Fania All-Stars,
Suburban Knight,
Minny Pops,
The Cowsills,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dennis Brown,
The Zeros,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Joe Smooth,
Severed Heads,
Popol Vuh,
D'Angelo,
Outsiders,
Yellowson,
The Angels of Light,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tim Buckley,
Amon Düül,
Marine Girls,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
World's Most,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Flash Fearless,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Skriet,
Supertramp,
Charles Mingus,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Wire,
Schoolly D,
Nils Olav,
New York Dolls,
Nation of Ulysses,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rosa Yemen,
Underground Resistance,
The Walker Brothers,
Johnny Osbourne,
AZ,
Trumans Water,
Spandau Ballet,
The Tremeloes,
Quantec,
Alice Coltrane,
Alison Limerick,
Symarip,
Camberwell Now,
Wings,
Gang Starr,
Pussy Galore,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
R.M.O.,
The Offenders,
The Remains,
Mo-Dettes,
The Last Poets,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.