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 Qatar 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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 the Sonics to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Faust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Count Five,
Wally Richardson,
The Buckinghams,
Soul Sonic Force,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Skatalites,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mary Jane Girls,
Vladislav Delay,
The Electric Prunes,
Gabor Szabo,
Hasil Adkins,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lucky Dragons,
Sexual Harrassment,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Japan,
The Offenders,
Mars,
Cymande,
Aural Exciters,
Aaron Thompson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Marc Almond,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ponytail,
The Cramps,
Tomorrow,
B.T. Express,
Tres Demented,
Althea and Donna,
Malaria!,
One Last Wish,
PIL,
Mission of Burma,
Pantaleimon,
Crispy Ambulance,
James White and The Blacks,
The Litter,
The Smiths,
Panda Bear,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bootsy Collins,
The Moody Blues,
Q and Not U,
Dark Day,
Reagan Youth,
The Divine Comedy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Peter and Kerry,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bob Dylan,
Kenny Larkin,
Smog,
The Vogues,
The Dirtbombs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brick,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.