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 Tunisia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Calgary.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sex Pistols to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Eden Ahbez,
Symarip,
Mission of Burma,
Chris & Cosey,
Marvin Gaye,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
In Retrospect,
Eurythmics,
Ice-T,
Barclay James Harvest,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sun Ra,
Boredoms,
Kaleidoscope,
Tom Boy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
New York Dolls,
KRS-One,
Little Man,
New Order,
Kerrie Biddell,
The American Breed,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Count Five,
The Busters,
Blancmange,
Nico,
Sonic Youth,
The Buckinghams,
the Association,
DNA,
Jawbox,
Rotary Connection,
Suicide,
Reuben Wilson,
Kerri Chandler,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Suburban Knight,
Black Bananas,
Grandmaster Flash,
Agent Orange,
Brothers Johnson,
The Blackbyrds,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sister Nancy,
Roxy Music,
Thompson Twins,
Faraquet,
Ronnie Foster,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Big Daddy Kane,
Skarface,
Erasure,
Roxette,
Schoolly D,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Five Americans,
Sunsets and Hearts,
PIL,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.