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 Turkmenistan and from Milan.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Madrid.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Peter and Kerry to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
Crispian St. Peters,
Deakin,
Sarah Menescal,
Jacques Brel,
The Red Krayola,
DJ Style,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Normal,
Bobby Sherman,
Trumans Water,
F. McDonald,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dave Gahan,
Ituana,
The Shadows of Knight,
R.M.O.,
Charles Mingus,
MC5,
Con Funk Shun,
The Tremeloes,
Circle Jerks,
ABC,
Ossler,
Boz Scaggs,
Spoonie Gee,
Magazine,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Severed Heads,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Divine Comedy,
the Bar-Kays,
Prince Buster,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Swans,
Moss Icon,
Smog,
Nirvana,
Wire,
Brand Nubian,
The Blues Magoos,
Motorama,
Barrington Levy,
Hasil Adkins,
Sällskapet,
Pantytec,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Piero Umiliani,
Marshall Jefferson,
Albert Ayler,
Eden Ahbez,
Roy Ayers,
Neil Young,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Anakelly,
Idris Muhammad,
The Sound,
Young Marble Giants,
Anthony Braxton,
Newcleus,
Yaz,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.