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 China and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Iggy Pop to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Spandau Ballet,
The Evens,
The Electric Prunes,
DJ Style,
Amon Düül II,
Television,
Stiv Bators,
Sister Nancy,
Tres Demented,
Robert Wyatt,
The Angels of Light,
The Tremeloes,
Scientists,
Tim Buckley,
Excepter,
Dawn Penn,
Boredoms,
Marine Girls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Joyce Sims,
Iggy Pop,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
K-Klass,
Traffic Nightmare,
Monolake,
Von Mondo,
Alice Coltrane,
Harpers Bizarre,
John Holt,
X-102,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tropical Tobacco,
Spoonie Gee,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Stetsasonic,
Neil Young,
Faust,
New York Dolls,
John Cale,
Crime,
The Standells,
Al Stewart,
E-Dancer,
The Slits,
The Cramps,
The Fall,
Altered Images,
Vainqueur,
Dave Gahan,
Ornette Coleman,
This Heat,
Silicon Teens,
Bobby Byrd,
Chrome,
The Skatalites,
Connie Case,
The Toasters,
Das Ding,
Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen.
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.