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 Singapore and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar 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 Cluster to the disco 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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All La Düsseldorf tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Motorama,
Cheater Slicks,
Slave,
The American Breed,
Boogie Down Productions,
Organ,
The Cramps,
Average White Band,
Chrome,
Bang On A Can,
The Angels of Light,
Moby Grape,
Don Cherry,
Skarface,
Dawn Penn,
Interpol,
Lyres,
Lalann,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gang Green,
Pere Ubu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Velvet Underground,
Moebius,
Echospace,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Godley & Creme,
Tim Buckley,
Sight & Sound,
Charles Mingus,
Johnny Clarke,
Crash Course in Science,
Black Bananas,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Offenders,
The Divine Comedy,
Radiohead,
The Blackbyrds,
the Human League,
Joy Division,
Arcadia,
Roger Hodgson,
K-Klass,
Stiv Bators,
David McCallum,
Talk Talk,
Juan Atkins,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rufus Thomas,
Gichy Dan,
Moss Icon,
Boz Scaggs,
The Zeros,
Johnny Osbourne,
Minor Threat,
Drexciya,
The Kinks,
Animal Collective,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.