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 Sri Lanka and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator 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 Swans to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Niagra,
Warsaw,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Divine Comedy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Circle Jerks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Camberwell Now,
Jawbox,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Dual Sessions,
Bobby Womack,
The Vogues,
Gabor Szabo,
James White and The Blacks,
Oblivians,
John Holt,
Yaz,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Soul Sonic Force,
Young Marble Giants,
Theoretical Girls,
Fluxion,
Judy Mowatt,
The Beau Brummels,
Pulsallama,
The Knickerbockers,
Organ,
Agitation Free,
FM Einheit,
Jerry's Kids,
Mr. Review,
Radio Birdman,
Erasure,
Toni Rubio,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Isaac Hayes,
The Monks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Walker Brothers,
LL Cool J,
E-Dancer,
Das Ding,
Panda Bear,
David Bowie,
Lucky Dragons,
Todd Rundgren,
Saccharine Trust,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Dawn Penn,
the Sonics,
Mad Mike,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roxy Music,
The Slackers,
Matthew Bourne,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.