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 Malawi and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 the Slits to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
Severed Heads,
The Names,
La Düsseldorf,
Faust,
Lucky Dragons,
The Slits,
Hasil Adkins,
Funkadelic,
Bill Near,
Crispy Ambulance,
Arthur Verocai,
Big Daddy Kane,
Clear Light,
Harry Pussy,
Wally Richardson,
Sex Pistols,
ABC,
the Sonics,
John Cale,
Outsiders,
Matthew Halsall,
Funky Four + One,
Ronan,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kenny Larkin,
Accadde A,
Steve Hackett,
Sällskapet,
Q65,
Royal Trux,
the Germs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Iggy Pop,
The Real Kids,
Echospace,
Bill Wells,
John Holt,
Pagans,
Sparks,
Charles Mingus,
James White and The Blacks,
Trumans Water,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Thee Headcoats,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ice-T,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ten City,
The Invisible,
Yazoo,
Black Flag,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Gap Band,
Schoolly D,
Bob Dylan,
The Durutti Column,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
DNA,
Sonic Youth,
Amazonics,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.