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 Algeria and from Delhi.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the techno 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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Smog,
Royal Trux,
Harmonia,
The Human League,
Urselle,
Lightning Bolt,
Grey Daturas,
Lalann,
Can,
Organ,
Man Parrish,
Wings,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Aaron Thompson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Don Cherry,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fela Kuti,
Infiniti,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pulsallama,
Desert Stars,
Brick,
John Cale,
B.T. Express,
The Moody Blues,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Slits,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Remains,
Fear,
New York Dolls,
Bronski Beat,
Malaria!,
Delon & Dalcan,
Youth Brigade,
Arthur Verocai,
Warsaw,
Subhumans,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Sonics,
The Slackers,
Graham Central Station,
the Germs,
Brand Nubian,
DJ Style,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Swell Maps,
Make Up,
Gang Gang Dance,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cowsills,
Jerry's Kids,
Pet Shop Boys,
Suburban Knight,
David Axelrod,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
James White and The Blacks,
Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence.
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.