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 Grenada and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ituana to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Roxette,
Kenny Larkin,
June of 44,
Connie Case,
Yusef Lateef,
The Cramps,
Newcleus,
Drive Like Jehu,
Nas,
Lyres,
The Move,
PIL,
Parry Music,
Dave Gahan,
Chris & Cosey,
Man Parrish,
Judy Mowatt,
Jerry's Kids,
Sam Rivers,
Lou Christie,
Fad Gadget,
The Fuzztones,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Joyce Sims,
Buzzcocks,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Stooges,
Barbara Tucker,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Todd Rundgren,
Ossler,
The Saints,
Faust,
Moebius,
Dennis Brown,
Jacob Miller,
Boz Scaggs,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bill Wells,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cybotron,
Steve Hackett,
Lalo Schifrin,
Symarip,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minutemen,
Michelle Simonal,
DNA,
Magma,
Young Marble Giants,
Derrick Morgan,
Malaria!,
Eden Ahbez,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.