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 Burkina and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manila.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Busters to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lucky Dragons,
The Standells,
Junior Murvin,
Intrusion,
R.M.O.,
Black Pus,
Man Eating Sloth,
The New Christs,
Vladislav Delay,
Kurtis Blow,
Harry Pussy,
Bill Near,
Youth Brigade,
Black Flag,
Girls At Our Best!,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
EPMD,
Au Pairs,
Inner City,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Red Krayola,
The Human League,
Dave Gahan,
Jeff Lynne,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Slits,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Skaos,
Sugar Minott,
the Soft Cell,
Bluetip,
Roxy Music,
Faust,
Goldenarms,
Infiniti,
The Monks,
The Beau Brummels,
Blake Baxter,
The Seeds,
Royal Trux,
The Associates,
Terry Callier,
Gang Starr,
Fugazi,
Fela Kuti,
A Certain Ratio,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pagans,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Byrd,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rakim,
Mars,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wings,
The Wake,
Malaria!,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Hoover,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.