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 Nigeria and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 LL Cool J to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
The Knickerbockers,
Leonard Cohen,
DJ Style,
Tropical Tobacco,
Adolescents,
Swans,
Kevin Saunderson,
Man Parrish,
Second Layer,
Black Pus,
Arab on Radar,
The Evens,
Kaleidoscope,
Gang Starr,
Aaron Thompson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Suburban Knight,
Yellowson,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Warren Ellis,
Icehouse,
In Retrospect,
Minny Pops,
The Beau Brummels,
The Pop Group,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Searchers,
Amon Düül II,
F. McDonald,
Funkadelic,
The Pretty Things,
Altered Images,
Crooked Eye,
Brothers Johnson,
Monks,
The Index,
Black Sheep,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobby Byrd,
Moby Grape,
Severed Heads,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Angry Samoans,
Al Stewart,
Soul II Soul,
Agitation Free,
Cameo,
Alphaville,
Traffic Nightmare,
AZ,
Crispian St. Peters,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pharoah Sanders,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Infiniti,
the Bar-Kays,
Nico,
Ornette Coleman,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.