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 Solomon Islands and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Slackers to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Albert Ayler,
Black Sheep,
Tommy Roe,
Masters at Work,
John Holt,
Ronnie Foster,
Letta Mbulu,
Sight & Sound,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sparks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Porter Ricks,
Neil Young,
Can,
Ponytail,
Tubeway Army,
The Star Department,
Gang of Four,
The Misunderstood,
Big Daddy Kane,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Brand Nubian,
Visage,
Electric Prunes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Last Poets,
Young Marble Giants,
Royal Trux,
The Cowsills,
Severed Heads,
The Names,
Harmonia,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Crash Course in Science,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
R.M.O.,
Sixth Finger,
Average White Band,
Robert Wyatt,
Fela Kuti,
Zapp,
Isaac Hayes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rotary Connection,
Angry Samoans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pulsallama,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rekid,
Bizarre Inc.,
Fad Gadget,
DNA,
Sister Nancy,
The Dave Clark Five,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bill Near,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Half Japanese,
La Düsseldorf,
Ultravox,
Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions.
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.