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 Brunei and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Donald Byrd to the rap 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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Q and Not U,
Junior Murvin,
Glenn Branca,
The Blues Magoos,
Masters at Work,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Don Cherry,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sonny Sharrock,
Monolake,
Siglo XX,
The Blackbyrds,
John Coltrane,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lyres,
Echospace,
Rhythm & Sound,
China Crisis,
Amon Düül II,
Rakim,
The Dead C,
Wolf Eyes,
The Sonics,
Duran Duran,
Television Personalities,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Wasted Youth,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rotary Connection,
The Names,
The Beau Brummels,
Minny Pops,
The Angels of Light,
Faraquet,
The Victims,
World's Most,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Hardrive,
R.M.O.,
Agent Orange,
Bill Near,
The Gories,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Motions,
Visage,
Angry Samoans,
Model 500,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Germs,
Sparks,
Sex Pistols,
Brothers Johnson,
Sun Ra,
Darondo,
Funkadelic,
The Zeros,
Smog,
Banda Bassotti,
Stiv Bators,
OOIOO,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.