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 Spain and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Flamin' Groovies to the crunk 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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Niagra,
The Sound,
Warsaw,
The Slits,
Malaria!,
John Foxx,
Youth Brigade,
Dead Boys,
Depeche Mode,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Max Romeo,
Rotary Connection,
The Flesh Eaters,
Oneida,
Minnie Riperton,
Soft Machine,
Flipper,
The Angels of Light,
Ronan,
the Germs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joyce Sims,
Dennis Brown,
Archie Shepp,
John Coltrane,
Graham Central Station,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nico,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
New Age Steppers,
The Motions,
Todd Terry,
Fear,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Detroit Cobras,
The J.B.'s,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jacques Brel,
The Fortunes,
Aural Exciters,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Supertramp,
Vainqueur,
Johnny Clarke,
Thee Headcoats,
The Knickerbockers,
Jeff Lynne,
The Alarm Clocks,
Stereo Dub,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Isaac Hayes,
Bill Wells,
Loose Ends,
Alphaville,
Eli Mardock,
Toni Rubio,
Lalo Schifrin,
H. Thieme,
Funky Four + One,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.