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 Vanuatu and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lille.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the rap 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Skarface,
Y Pants,
Max Romeo,
Das Ding,
Visage,
Deadbeat,
The Black Dice,
Minutemen,
Ice-T,
Goldenarms,
Interpol,
Bobby Womack,
Lindisfarne,
X-Ray Spex,
Drexciya,
Black Pus,
Country Teasers,
Funky Four + One,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Grey Daturas,
ABBA,
Joe Smooth,
Black Sheep,
Quadrant,
Cameo,
the Swans,
Fugazi,
X-101,
Hasil Adkins,
Sex Pistols,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pulsallama,
June Days,
Marmalade,
Eli Mardock,
The Red Krayola,
Alphaville,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Yusef Lateef,
Joe Finger,
Pantaleimon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Urselle,
Eurythmics,
New York Dolls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Deepchord,
The Invisible,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bobby Sherman,
These Immortal Souls,
Warren Ellis,
Audionom,
Zapp,
The Mojo Men,
Half Japanese,
Scientists,
Panda Bear,
The Gun Club,
China Crisis,
The Seeds,
La Düsseldorf,
Delta 5,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.