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 United States and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Vogues to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
The Busters,
Faraquet,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Inner City,
the Normal,
Pagans,
K-Klass,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scott Walker,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Swans,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Scan 7,
Eden Ahbez,
Nico,
Magazine,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Moebius,
Cheater Slicks,
MDC,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
FM Einheit,
Malaria!,
Icehouse,
John Cale,
ABC,
Funky Four + One,
Black Bananas,
The Buckinghams,
Mandrill,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Cowsills,
Agent Orange,
La Düsseldorf,
Morten Harket,
The Sound,
Sonny Sharrock,
Hot Snakes,
Shuggie Otis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Vogues,
Nik Kershaw,
Country Teasers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Absolute Body Control,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Amon Düül II,
Girls At Our Best!,
Index,
The Fall,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Yazoo,
Visage,
The Searchers,
Neu!,
The Fortunes,
Glenn Branca,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Residents,
World's Most,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.