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 Kiribati and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 güiro 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 Donald Byrd to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Zapp,
Saccharine Trust,
Quantec,
Organ,
Mad Mike,
Mars,
Juan Atkins,
The Electric Prunes,
The Sound,
Eric Dolphy,
Minny Pops,
PIL,
The Real Kids,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Walker Brothers,
Donald Byrd,
Rites of Spring,
Minutemen,
Alice Coltrane,
The Fuzztones,
Visage,
Nik Kershaw,
The New Christs,
The Black Dice,
Soul II Soul,
Slave,
The Zeros,
Neu!,
Vainqueur,
Matthew Bourne,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Holt,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Kool Moe Dee,
Harmonia,
Loose Ends,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Blancmange,
the Soft Cell,
Pulsallama,
The Skatalites,
Eric Copeland,
Flamin' Groovies,
Anthony Braxton,
Audionom,
Todd Rundgren,
The Motions,
Accadde A,
World's Most,
Basic Channel,
Maurizio,
Josef K,
Crooked Eye,
The Sonics,
Goldenarms,
Symarip,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sun City Girls,
Black Bananas,
Angry Samoans,
Junior Murvin,
The Victims,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.