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 Paraguay and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Accra.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Circle Jerks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Tommy Roe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Shoche,
The Music Machine,
Bauhaus,
The Real Kids,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pussy Galore,
Lightning Bolt,
Susan Cadogan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Alton Ellis,
Derrick May,
The Gun Club,
Harmonia,
Bush Tetras,
Groovy Waters,
Moss Icon,
The Dead C,
Main Source,
Archie Shepp,
DJ Sneak,
The Misunderstood,
Sixth Finger,
Cal Tjader,
Rekid,
The Buckinghams,
Sugar Minott,
Gil Scott Heron,
Minny Pops,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Soft Cell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Henry Cow,
Jimmy McGriff,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kas Product,
Bobby Sherman,
Joensuu 1685,
Youth Brigade,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
L. Decosne,
John Lydon,
Hasil Adkins,
Animal Collective,
World's Most,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Joey Negro,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Throbbing Gristle,
Depeche Mode,
JFA,
Hardrive,
Audionom,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
John Foxx,
The Knickerbockers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Black Moon,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.