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 Monaco and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Byron Stingily to the rock 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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
Sugar Minott,
Marc Almond,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Blossom Toes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Robert Wyatt,
Rites of Spring,
Circle Jerks,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Angry Samoans,
Gang of Four,
Bootsy Collins,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mr. Review,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Happenings,
Visage,
The Searchers,
Joe Finger,
Eddi Front,
Electric Prunes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Underground Resistance,
H. Thieme,
DNA,
David Bowie,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Mummies,
Livin' Joy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Minutemen,
Camberwell Now,
Barrington Levy,
The Stooges,
Sun Ra,
Gong,
Skriet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Spandau Ballet,
Camouflage,
Archie Shepp,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Niagra,
Toni Rubio,
Mantronix,
Stiv Bators,
Parry Music,
Maurizio,
Juan Atkins,
Kurtis Blow,
Marcia Griffiths,
Alison Limerick,
the Bar-Kays,
The Skatalites,
U.S. Maple,
The Cowsills,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.