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 San Marino and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Dirtbombs to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sandy B,
Soft Cell,
The Star Department,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bobby Womack,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alton Ellis,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Moody Blues,
Leonard Cohen,
Laurel Aitken,
The Zeros,
Simply Red,
DJ Sneak,
Buzzcocks,
The American Breed,
Tom Boy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Five Americans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Brass Construction,
Soft Machine,
Byron Stingily,
Qualms,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mark Hollis,
Saccharine Trust,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Angels of Light,
Todd Rundgren,
Donny Hathaway,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Trumans Water,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Dave Gahan,
Don Cherry,
China Crisis,
John Coltrane,
Iggy Pop,
The Stooges,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sparks,
Delta 5,
The Knickerbockers,
Y Pants,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sex Pistols,
Fatback Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dawn Penn,
Hashim,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Steve Hackett,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Velvet Underground,
The Last Poets,
Black Pus,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.