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 Libya and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lindisfarne 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 Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amon Düül II record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
The Slits,
Eric Dolphy,
The Real Kids,
The Fortunes,
Dead Boys,
Yazoo,
Sam Rivers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rosa Yemen,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gastr Del Sol,
David Bowie,
The Index,
The Flesh Eaters,
Make Up,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Desert Stars,
Con Funk Shun,
Deepchord,
China Crisis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Can,
Slick Rick,
Angry Samoans,
Average White Band,
F. McDonald,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Crispian St. Peters,
Thee Headcoats,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Pretty Things,
Piero Umiliani,
The Vogues,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
X-Ray Spex,
The Kinks,
New Age Steppers,
Tres Demented,
Jerry's Kids,
The Moleskins,
Crooked Eye,
Pantytec,
Soulsonic Force,
This Heat,
Gang of Four,
Vladislav Delay,
Popol Vuh,
The Invisible,
The Standells,
Hot Snakes,
Tomorrow,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Dirtbombs,
Grauzone,
Skarface,
The Names,
Godley & Creme,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.