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 Gambia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Von Mondo to the punk 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
the Soft Cell,
Juan Atkins,
Neil Young,
Josef K,
Inner City,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Blackbyrds,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Slits,
Anthony Braxton,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Arcadia,
John Cale,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Newcleus,
Fear,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Television Personalities,
48th St. Collective,
Roger Hodgson,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fugs,
Urselle,
Quadrant,
The Detroit Cobras,
Swans,
Sexual Harrassment,
Depeche Mode,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Eurythmics,
The American Breed,
New Age Steppers,
Funkadelic,
Aloha Tigers,
Lou Reed,
Banda Bassotti,
New Order,
Faraquet,
Warsaw,
Pet Shop Boys,
Maurizio,
Ultra Naté,
Johnny Clarke,
The Techniques,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Grass Roots,
Connie Case,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ice-T,
Scrapy,
Q65,
Skaos,
Basic Channel,
Khruangbin,
The Pretty Things,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Smoke,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.