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 Kazakhstan and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the oboe 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 Marine Girls to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Roy Ayers,
Toni Rubio,
Magazine,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Deepchord,
Crash Course in Science,
The Searchers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Yaz,
Gerry Rafferty,
Hasil Adkins,
Agent Orange,
In Retrospect,
Danielle Patucci,
Donny Hathaway,
Zapp,
Alton Ellis,
The Litter,
Tomorrow,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ituana,
Brothers Johnson,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wolf Eyes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
AZ,
Echospace,
The Gories,
Dual Sessions,
Country Teasers,
Interpol,
The Associates,
Brand Nubian,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Raincoats,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Detroit Cobras,
Roger Hodgson,
Vladislav Delay,
Brass Construction,
Fugazi,
Camouflage,
Ronan,
48th St. Collective,
Althea and Donna,
Can,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Be Bop Deluxe,
R.M.O.,
Amazonics,
The Real Kids,
The Kinks,
The Red Krayola,
Crooked Eye,
F. McDonald,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ten City,
Minnie Riperton,
Niagra,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Dark Day,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.