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 Comoros and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Malaria! to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
The Tremeloes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Youth Brigade,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Organ,
Thee Headcoats,
The Smiths,
Brass Construction,
Janne Schatter,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Japan,
U.S. Maple,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kool Moe Dee,
Roxette,
Derrick May,
Arthur Verocai,
Hot Snakes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Talk Talk,
The Five Americans,
Scientists,
Dark Day,
Piero Umiliani,
Marmalade,
Ultra Naté,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lakeside,
Black Moon,
Colin Newman,
cv313,
Fluxion,
Kurtis Blow,
Pere Ubu,
Mr. Review,
Deadbeat,
Tres Demented,
The Dirtbombs,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Saints,
Jeff Mills,
Tim Buckley,
La Düsseldorf,
Make Up,
Yusef Lateef,
Subhumans,
Au Pairs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Model 500,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sun Ra,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
MDC,
the Bar-Kays,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Accadde A,
Roy Ayers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet.
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.