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 Ivory Coast and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The American Breed to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Sam Rivers,
Brass Construction,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Radiopuhelimet,
Young Marble Giants,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
a-ha,
Desert Stars,
Don Cherry,
Graham Central Station,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fat Boys,
Black Sheep,
Intrusion,
Porter Ricks,
Ohio Players,
The Cowsills,
Hoover,
Bush Tetras,
The Detroit Cobras,
Suburban Knight,
Radiohead,
Amazonics,
Supertramp,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ronnie Foster,
Sugar Minott,
Shuggie Otis,
Mandrill,
Youth Brigade,
Easy Going,
Grey Daturas,
Sandy B,
Sister Nancy,
the Sonics,
Minutemen,
DNA,
Drexciya,
Mr. Review,
The Dirtbombs,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Kinks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Hardrive,
The Slits,
Unrelated Segments,
Tommy Roe,
Rites of Spring,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tropical Tobacco,
Quadrant,
The Busters,
The Sonics,
Bronski Beat,
Dave Gahan,
Cheater Slicks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Altered Images,
Jerry's Kids,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.