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 Antigua and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Grey Daturas to the crunk 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Siglo XX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Babytalk,
The Doobie Brothers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Excepter,
The Smoke,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Echospace,
Todd Terry,
Amon Düül,
Public Image Ltd.,
Tubeway Army,
Roxy Music,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Knickerbockers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sällskapet,
Jeff Mills,
Minny Pops,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Massinfluence,
The Slits,
June of 44,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
John Foxx,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Niagra,
Lungfish,
Kenny Larkin,
Bush Tetras,
Minnie Riperton,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Alarm Clocks,
Alice Coltrane,
Monolake,
Yusef Lateef,
Iggy Pop,
X-102,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bill Near,
Motorama,
Nas,
Dead Boys,
Public Enemy,
Malaria!,
The Blues Magoos,
Fluxion,
Ultimate Spinach,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Silicon Teens,
Panda Bear,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Names,
James White and The Blacks,
Yazoo,
Isaac Hayes,
Danielle Patucci,
The Grass Roots,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
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.