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 Angola and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 R.M.O. to the crunk 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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
Bauhaus,
Lungfish,
The Dead C,
Youth Brigade,
The Leaves,
Fear,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fluxion,
DJ Sneak,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pierre Henry,
Sex Pistols,
Los Fastidios,
The Sound,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
EPMD,
Stockholm Monsters,
Thee Headcoats,
Livin' Joy,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Rekid,
Mary Jane Girls,
Q and Not U,
Excepter,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kurtis Blow,
Little Man,
CMW,
Magazine,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Hasil Adkins,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Banda Bassotti,
Sam Rivers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Grandmaster Flash,
ABC,
Matthew Halsall,
Ralphi Rosario,
Todd Rundgren,
Maurizio,
Unwound,
8 Eyed Spy,
Graham Central Station,
Piero Umiliani,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Slits,
Aural Exciters,
The Black Dice,
David Bowie,
Alton Ellis,
E-Dancer,
Glenn Branca,
Letta Mbulu,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Cowsills,
Quantec,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.