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 Vanuatu and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 güiro 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 Blancmange to the grunge 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 Cramps. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Cybotron,
Black Moon,
Todd Rundgren,
Malaria!,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Moleskins,
Bobby Womack,
the Soft Cell,
Throbbing Gristle,
Unwound,
The Standells,
Fear,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Cowsills,
Sugar Minott,
Black Sheep,
The Five Americans,
John Holt,
Anthony Braxton,
Black Bananas,
Junior Murvin,
Stetsasonic,
Mars,
The Slackers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Brass Construction,
The Star Department,
Glenn Branca,
June of 44,
David Bowie,
Stockholm Monsters,
Warren Ellis,
Harmonia,
Girls At Our Best!,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Litter,
the Normal,
Royal Trux,
Grauzone,
the Swans,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Moody Blues,
Bush Tetras,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Tubeway Army,
Andrew Hill,
ABBA,
Iggy Pop,
Organ,
Can,
The Stooges,
Guru Guru,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sällskapet,
Masters at Work,
Radio Birdman,
Tommy Roe,
Dave Gahan,
Alice Coltrane,
Deepchord,
Blossom Toes,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.