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 Gabon and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Chic 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 Shuggie Otis to the funk 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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
Fugazi,
Lucky Dragons,
the Germs,
Joy Division,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Derrick May,
K-Klass,
Symarip,
Althea and Donna,
Mad Mike,
Eve St. Jones,
Fad Gadget,
B.T. Express,
Swell Maps,
Wally Richardson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Q65,
Black Moon,
Barbara Tucker,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Prince Buster,
Neu!,
Das Ding,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ohio Players,
Boredoms,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Niagra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Japan,
Minnie Riperton,
Maleditus Sound,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
ABC,
Whodini,
Monolake,
China Crisis,
Circle Jerks,
Tomorrow,
Ten City,
Dead Boys,
Camouflage,
Crooked Eye,
The Litter,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ronnie Foster,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
John Cale,
T. Rex,
One Last Wish,
Black Bananas,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
F. McDonald,
The Mojo Men,
Nico,
Mr. Review,
Intrusion,
Gichy Dan,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.