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 Ethiopia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 T.S.O.L. to the grime 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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Khruangbin,
Sonic Youth,
The Pretty Things,
Loose Ends,
Cecil Taylor,
Section 25,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ultravox,
Funkadelic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Talk Talk,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ice-T,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lungfish,
The Selecter,
Gabor Szabo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Livin' Joy,
Pierre Henry,
Cluster,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Peter and Kerry,
The Remains,
The Moleskins,
Marvin Gaye,
The Cure,
The Leaves,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tubeway Army,
Jacques Brel,
Alice Coltrane,
Parry Music,
Bang On A Can,
The Fire Engines,
Mission of Burma,
The Invisible,
Shuggie Otis,
Underground Resistance,
The Dirtbombs,
Chrome,
Whodini,
Bootsy Collins,
Graham Central Station,
Qualms,
Lalann,
Country Teasers,
E-Dancer,
The Standells,
John Foxx,
Wolf Eyes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Motions,
Icehouse,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Aural Exciters,
Robert Wyatt,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.