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 Congo and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Nico to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Durutti Column,
Blancmange,
Funky Four + One,
X-Ray Spex,
The Divine Comedy,
Althea and Donna,
Y Pants,
June of 44,
Stockholm Monsters,
Josef K,
T. Rex,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Aural Exciters,
Sugar Minott,
Quantec,
Royal Trux,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tres Demented,
Scion,
Crispy Ambulance,
Amon Düül,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Motions,
Bobby Byrd,
Harmonia,
The Seeds,
The Blackbyrds,
E-Dancer,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Walker Brothers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Buckinghams,
Nas,
The Wake,
Joy Division,
Parry Music,
Ronan,
The Gladiators,
Fugazi,
Yusef Lateef,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Agitation Free,
the Germs,
Schoolly D,
The Fall,
Theoretical Girls,
World's Most,
Mo-Dettes,
Echospace,
Thee Headcoats,
Faraquet,
Maurizio,
Danielle Patucci,
Ludus,
Minnie Riperton,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.