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 Monaco and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Public Image Ltd. to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Mantronix,
David Axelrod,
Kaleidoscope,
Camberwell Now,
Unrelated Segments,
the Germs,
Accadde A,
Nation of Ulysses,
Charles Mingus,
Barry Ungar,
Hashim,
Aloha Tigers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brand Nubian,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Spandau Ballet,
Mo-Dettes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rotary Connection,
Au Pairs,
Morten Harket,
Arthur Verocai,
Sex Pistols,
Deakin,
Porter Ricks,
Howard Jones,
Juan Atkins,
Thee Headcoats,
Das Ding,
The Black Dice,
Cal Tjader,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Bananas,
Dead Boys,
Little Man,
Yellowson,
the Slits,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Blackbyrds,
Crime,
Public Enemy,
Danielle Patucci,
John Holt,
PIL,
Scientists,
Eden Ahbez,
Bizarre Inc.,
Joensuu 1685,
Colin Newman,
Quadrant,
Bobby Sherman,
Deepchord,
Bill Wells,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Surgeon,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.