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 Egypt and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Suicide to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Pretty Things,
The Grass Roots,
Bluetip,
The Fugs,
Eve St. Jones,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
T. Rex,
Bizarre Inc.,
Banda Bassotti,
Hot Snakes,
Robert Görl,
Liliput,
Wally Richardson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ronnie Foster,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kayak,
Pole,
Depeche Mode,
Accadde A,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Alphaville,
Kerrie Biddell,
Don Cherry,
Robert Hood,
Black Sheep,
The Star Department,
The Busters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobby Womack,
Dual Sessions,
Amazonics,
Sam Rivers,
Hasil Adkins,
D'Angelo,
Lungfish,
Moss Icon,
Kerri Chandler,
The Durutti Column,
Man Eating Sloth,
Television Personalities,
Fort Wilson Riot,
June of 44,
Television,
Pere Ubu,
Fad Gadget,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gang Starr,
Bill Near,
Gregory Isaacs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Blossom Toes,
Joy Division,
Howard Jones,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lightning Bolt,
Ituana, Ituana, Ituana, Ituana.
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.