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 Belgium and from Tokyo.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the rock 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Darondo,
Man Parrish,
Toni Rubio,
Lyres,
These Immortal Souls,
8 Eyed Spy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Man Eating Sloth,
Suicide,
The Searchers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Barracudas,
Scion,
Japan,
The Birthday Party,
Drive Like Jehu,
Organ,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kayak,
The Toasters,
The Beau Brummels,
Roy Ayers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Offenders,
The Pop Group,
Moebius,
Ronnie Foster,
One Last Wish,
Loose Ends,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Move,
Graham Central Station,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Visage,
Sällskapet,
Metal Thangz,
Warsaw,
Swell Maps,
Skriet,
Pylon,
Rotary Connection,
The Pretty Things,
Supertramp,
Dennis Brown,
Tim Buckley,
Guru Guru,
Severed Heads,
Angry Samoans,
Whodini,
Trumans Water,
The Smiths,
The Real Kids,
Vladislav Delay,
T. Rex,
the Slits,
Al Stewart,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
John Lydon,
Rufus Thomas,
Simply Red,
Surgeon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.