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 Tuvalu and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dirtbombs to the techno 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 Minny Pops. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 American Breed,
Prince Buster,
Hoover,
Interpol,
The Blackbyrds,
Swans,
The Barracudas,
T. Rex,
Ken Boothe,
Khruangbin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joey Negro,
World's Most,
Harry Pussy,
The Last Poets,
Throbbing Gristle,
JFA,
Dorothy Ashby,
H. Thieme,
Procol Harum,
the Germs,
Harmonia,
Matthew Halsall,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gap Band,
Dark Day,
kango's stein massive,
Kerrie Biddell,
Skriet,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Dirtbombs,
Trumans Water,
Pylon,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Gladiators,
Letta Mbulu,
David Bowie,
Lalann,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Delta 5,
Nik Kershaw,
Leonard Cohen,
Ultra Naté,
Todd Terry,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The J.B.'s,
Joe Smooth,
Rod Modell,
Eric Dolphy,
Roxy Music,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Magazine,
Kurtis Blow,
The Neon Judgement,
Kool Moe Dee,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Knickerbockers,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.