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 Kosovo and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Von Mondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Rekid,
Pagans,
DNA,
Subhumans,
Lindisfarne,
Magazine,
Tres Demented,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marine Girls,
Duran Duran,
The Seeds,
Donald Byrd,
Scientists,
Altered Images,
The Gladiators,
Fatback Band,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Busters,
H. Thieme,
Depeche Mode,
Simply Red,
Jeff Mills,
Sister Nancy,
Joe Finger,
R.M.O.,
Ralphi Rosario,
Schoolly D,
The Victims,
Kenny Larkin,
The Evens,
Hot Snakes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Kinks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Frankie Knuckles,
Qualms,
Colin Newman,
Andrew Hill,
Maleditus Sound,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jandek,
cv313,
Flipper,
Camouflage,
Ponytail,
Don Cherry,
Camberwell Now,
Roxette,
Janne Schatter,
Joey Negro,
The Stooges,
The Angels of Light,
Television Personalities,
The American Breed,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kaleidoscope,
Cal Tjader,
The Doobie Brothers,
Arcadia,
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.