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 Ecuador and from Tokyo.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 La Düsseldorf to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Alton Ellis,
Byron Stingily,
Accadde A,
Flipper,
Radio Birdman,
Heaven 17,
The Beau Brummels,
The Slits,
Rapeman,
10cc,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
ABBA,
Roger Hodgson,
The Gladiators,
The Angels of Light,
Qualms,
Gang Starr,
Smog,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Matthew Halsall,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Interpol,
Severed Heads,
Sugar Minott,
The Slackers,
Lungfish,
The Grass Roots,
Altered Images,
Neil Young,
Oblivians,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dave Gahan,
Albert Ayler,
The Dirtbombs,
Echospace,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Steve Hackett,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Monolake,
Warsaw,
Can,
The Fugs,
Sonny Sharrock,
Drexciya,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Cowsills,
Todd Rundgren,
Skriet,
The Invisible,
Bill Near,
Japan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Glenn Branca,
Massinfluence,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.