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 Cambodia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Fire Engines to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All The Fortunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every cv313 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Mantronix,
Yazoo,
Bobby Byrd,
Mary Jane Girls,
U.S. Maple,
Make Up,
Delta 5,
Tubeway Army,
Echospace,
The Misunderstood,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
David Bowie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Monolake,
DNA,
Malaria!,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Standells,
The Pretty Things,
The New Christs,
Bobby Sherman,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Amazonics,
Rakim,
Surgeon,
Black Pus,
Tres Demented,
Marc Almond,
Glambeats Corp.,
Stereo Dub,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Count Five,
48th St. Collective,
Scratch Acid,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bootsy Collins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
David McCallum,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bad Manners,
Little Man,
The Monochrome Set,
Sparks,
Ice-T,
Altered Images,
Ultravox,
Godley & Creme,
Fugazi,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Electric Prunes,
World's Most,
Depeche Mode,
Grey Daturas,
Soul Sonic Force,
KRS-One,
Siglo XX,
Spoonie Gee,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.