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 Austria and from Mexico City.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pulsallama to the punk 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Von Mondo,
Loose Ends,
Flipper,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hasil Adkins,
Howard Jones,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
X-101,
Cymande,
Delta 5,
Flamin' Groovies,
Neil Young,
Scrapy,
Smog,
Youth Brigade,
Josef K,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Doors,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The New Christs,
Prince Buster,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Happenings,
Lakeside,
The Smiths,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sound Behaviour,
Trumans Water,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sugar Minott,
Circle Jerks,
Patti Smith,
Q and Not U,
Arcadia,
The Mummies,
Bush Tetras,
Monolake,
The Saints,
Matthew Bourne,
Jeff Mills,
James White and The Blacks,
Nik Kershaw,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Fugs,
Gichy Dan,
ABC,
AZ,
Heaven 17,
LL Cool J,
Oblivians,
Television,
Cal Tjader,
Donald Byrd,
Radiohead,
Sam Rivers,
Fad Gadget,
Subhumans,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.