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 Seychelles and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Marcia Griffiths to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter & Gordon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
Marine Girls,
Ronan,
Aaron Thompson,
These Immortal Souls,
Hoover,
Amon Düül II,
Scrapy,
A Certain Ratio,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Durutti Column,
Gregory Isaacs,
Soft Machine,
China Crisis,
Electric Prunes,
Thee Headcoats,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Erykah Badu,
Schoolly D,
Cymande,
Pylon,
Black Sheep,
Wire,
Sister Nancy,
New Age Steppers,
The Sonics,
Harry Pussy,
Jawbox,
David Bowie,
Fear,
Rod Modell,
Grandmaster Flash,
John Foxx,
The Remains,
Lee Hazlewood,
Toni Rubio,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Icehouse,
Procol Harum,
Henry Cow,
Rekid,
Television Personalities,
Juan Atkins,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Franke,
The Doors,
Dead Boys,
Altered Images,
Can,
Youth Brigade,
Little Man,
The Litter,
The Red Krayola,
Banda Bassotti,
Camberwell Now,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Angels of Light,
FM Einheit,
Jeru the Damaja,
Accadde A,
John Lydon,
The Walker Brothers,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.