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 Greece and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Traffic Nightmare to the grunge 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Durutti Column,
Reagan Youth,
Black Moon,
the Germs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Black Pus,
Blossom Toes,
ABC,
Soul Sonic Force,
Delta 5,
The Mojo Men,
Au Pairs,
F. McDonald,
The Busters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Fugs,
Visage,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Leaves,
Sonic Youth,
Vladislav Delay,
Lou Christie,
Mark Hollis,
The Angels of Light,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Foxx,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bluetip,
Youth Brigade,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Association,
Make Up,
Hoover,
The Raincoats,
Whodini,
Crash Course in Science,
The Associates,
Agent Orange,
Archie Shepp,
K-Klass,
Gang of Four,
Harmonia,
Glenn Branca,
Angry Samoans,
The Red Krayola,
The Searchers,
Rekid,
Eddi Front,
Soft Machine,
the Fania All-Stars,
Althea and Donna,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Minutemen,
Jerry's Kids,
Bush Tetras,
Adolescents,
Los Fastidios,
Circle Jerks,
Ponytail,
Prince Buster,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.