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 Bangladesh and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Crispy Ambulance to the grunge 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 The Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Josef K,
Mars,
Arab on Radar,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lower 48,
Q and Not U,
Urselle,
Crooked Eye,
The Electric Prunes,
Main Source,
John Foxx,
John Cale,
Tears for Fears,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Patti Smith,
Absolute Body Control,
Ultravox,
H. Thieme,
Thompson Twins,
Fat Boys,
Rufus Thomas,
The Selecter,
La Düsseldorf,
Curtis Mayfield,
MDC,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Outsiders,
Sex Pistols,
Rotary Connection,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mandrill,
The Litter,
Crash Course in Science,
Joyce Sims,
Japan,
CMW,
The Dave Clark Five,
Erykah Badu,
Young Marble Giants,
The Real Kids,
Robert Wyatt,
Gang of Four,
Donny Hathaway,
Isaac Hayes,
Make Up,
Lalann,
Morten Harket,
Roxette,
Mad Mike,
Buzzcocks,
Metal Thangz,
K-Klass,
Audionom,
Pantytec,
Quantec,
The Beau Brummels,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.