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 Kosovo and from Toronto.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fugazi to the grunge 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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
The Saints,
Gang of Four,
Marc Almond,
The Offenders,
The American Breed,
The Monks,
Rekid,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Japan,
T.S.O.L.,
Infiniti,
Terrestrial Tones,
Grey Daturas,
Minutemen,
Lakeside,
The Golliwogs,
Peter and Kerry,
Funky Four + One,
Ultravox,
Eric B and Rakim,
Harmonia,
Animal Collective,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Donny Hathaway,
Goldenarms,
Kayak,
The Birthday Party,
Man Parrish,
Altered Images,
The Wake,
China Crisis,
Pierre Henry,
Darondo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arab on Radar,
Lee Hazlewood,
Byron Stingily,
Mad Mike,
Kerrie Biddell,
Soft Machine,
Warren Ellis,
Talk Talk,
Arcadia,
The Gun Club,
Nils Olav,
Pylon,
Das Ding,
the Normal,
Dark Day,
MDC,
Ultra Naté,
Bootsy Collins,
Thee Headcoats,
R.M.O.,
The Litter,
La Düsseldorf,
Tommy Roe,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.