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 Switzerland and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 DJ Sneak to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
The Remains,
Severed Heads,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Grauzone,
Aural Exciters,
Max Romeo,
Black Bananas,
The Neon Judgement,
Liliput,
June of 44,
Eve St. Jones,
Pagans,
This Heat,
Nils Olav,
The Beau Brummels,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Marine Girls,
Soul II Soul,
Urselle,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Average White Band,
Rapeman,
The Shadows of Knight,
Freddie Wadling,
Hoover,
Negative Approach,
E-Dancer,
Ten City,
Q and Not U,
Todd Rundgren,
David McCallum,
Vainqueur,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sandy B,
Maurizio,
Duran Duran,
Panda Bear,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Franke,
Graham Central Station,
Wally Richardson,
The Slits,
Gang of Four,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Electric Prunes,
Talk Talk,
Heaven 17,
Charles Mingus,
Yellowson,
Sparks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bizarre Inc.,
Alphaville,
Oneida,
Thompson Twins,
Sun City Girls,
Wings,
Blancmange,
Gastr Del Sol,
Marc Almond,
Reuben Wilson,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.