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 Bahrain and from Lagos.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mars,
Angry Samoans,
Danielle Patucci,
Blossom Toes,
The Red Krayola,
Glenn Branca,
Talk Talk,
Byron Stingily,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Godley & Creme,
Eden Ahbez,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lalann,
Marmalade,
John Foxx,
Fugazi,
John Cale,
Glambeats Corp.,
Icehouse,
Interpol,
Dark Day,
LL Cool J,
Essential Logic,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Quadrant,
Suicide,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tom Boy,
Donny Hathaway,
Little Man,
Average White Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
Basic Channel,
Joyce Sims,
Sarah Menescal,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Neu!,
Radiohead,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Chris Corsano,
Dead Boys,
New Order,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Jawbox,
Shoche,
Minutemen,
The Busters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Toasters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Knickerbockers,
Nico,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Divine Comedy,
OOIOO,
Nik Kershaw,
X-Ray Spex,
Toni Rubio,
Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet.
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.