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 Ecuador and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Harry Pussy to the punk 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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Motions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Smooth,
Freddie Wadling,
Arthur Verocai,
Charles Mingus,
Robert Hood,
cv313,
Jacob Miller,
Scott Walker,
The Happenings,
Second Layer,
Soft Machine,
Lindisfarne,
Crooked Eye,
Girls At Our Best!,
Hoover,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Moleskins,
Pantaleimon,
Pagans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Music Machine,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nils Olav,
Nico,
The New Christs,
June Days,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Simply Red,
Carl Craig,
Dead Boys,
Saccharine Trust,
Organ,
Susan Cadogan,
Minutemen,
L. Decosne,
Janne Schatter,
Scratch Acid,
Skarface,
Wolf Eyes,
Nik Kershaw,
Index,
Gastr Del Sol,
Max Romeo,
Jeff Mills,
Skriet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
World's Most,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ossler,
Nirvana,
Deakin,
The Electric Prunes,
Radio Birdman,
Maleditus Sound,
Marshall Jefferson,
Stiv Bators,
The Seeds,
Roy Ayers,
The Gap Band,
Visage,
Outsiders,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.