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 Eritrea and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Public Image Ltd. to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Quantec,
The Knickerbockers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marmalade,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kerrie Biddell,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Tremeloes,
The Birthday Party,
Slick Rick,
Avey Tare,
The Smoke,
Hashim,
The Doors,
Jacques Brel,
Susan Cadogan,
Girls At Our Best!,
Technova,
Make Up,
John Holt,
Suicide,
Amon Düül,
The Smiths,
Big Daddy Kane,
Minor Threat,
Magma,
Niagra,
The Dead C,
The Cure,
Ossler,
Pharoah Sanders,
DNA,
Depeche Mode,
Heaven 17,
Ronnie Foster,
Bauhaus,
Sonic Youth,
Groovy Waters,
John Cale,
Bobby Womack,
Rod Modell,
The Moleskins,
Reagan Youth,
Roxy Music,
Can,
Jawbox,
Lightning Bolt,
The Sonics,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Drexciya,
Tres Demented,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Neon Judgement,
Jandek,
John Coltrane,
Davy DMX,
Kool Moe Dee,
Joe Finger,
New York Dolls,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.