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 Tajikistan and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Mr. Review to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Boredoms,
The Techniques,
David Bowie,
Nils Olav,
Marine Girls,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Curtis Mayfield,
Letta Mbulu,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Reuben Wilson,
Young Marble Giants,
Mandrill,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bauhaus,
Archie Shepp,
Judy Mowatt,
Prince Buster,
Can,
Ornette Coleman,
ABBA,
Throbbing Gristle,
R.M.O.,
Cymande,
Subhumans,
The Monochrome Set,
Shuggie Otis,
Make Up,
David Axelrod,
the Swans,
Joe Smooth,
June of 44,
Television,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barry Ungar,
Al Stewart,
the Normal,
Graham Central Station,
Lou Reed,
Darondo,
Glenn Branca,
Blancmange,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Girls At Our Best!,
Thee Headcoats,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Heaven 17,
The Skatalites,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pole,
Moby Grape,
Blake Baxter,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Clear Light,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ken Boothe,
Man Parrish,
KRS-One,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.