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 Iceland and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Black Sheep to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Model 500 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
F. McDonald,
K-Klass,
Pylon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Saccharine Trust,
Donald Byrd,
The Velvet Underground,
JFA,
Dave Gahan,
The Divine Comedy,
Simply Red,
T. Rex,
Rites of Spring,
The Moleskins,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Human League,
Monolake,
Radiohead,
Girls At Our Best!,
David Bowie,
Anthony Braxton,
Malaria!,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Skatalites,
Symarip,
cv313,
Gabor Szabo,
Absolute Body Control,
Brothers Johnson,
Ice-T,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Beau Brummels,
Half Japanese,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Swans,
Lyres,
Magazine,
The Last Poets,
Rufus Thomas,
Flipper,
In Retrospect,
Lower 48,
Eric B and Rakim,
Michelle Simonal,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Standells,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Chrome,
Interpol,
Bauhaus,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Section 25,
Brand Nubian,
Soft Cell,
The Grass Roots,
The Barracudas,
Howard Jones,
The Kinks,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.