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 Korea South and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare 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 Sex Pistols to the techno 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 The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Sarah Menescal,
Isaac Hayes,
Fear,
Prince Buster,
Sister Nancy,
Index,
Yusef Lateef,
The Mummies,
Traffic Nightmare,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sun City Girls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bill Near,
Sonic Youth,
Brothers Johnson,
The Zeros,
Erasure,
Barclay James Harvest,
Radio Birdman,
Hardrive,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Mojo Men,
Crash Course in Science,
Swell Maps,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Alphaville,
The Angels of Light,
Skaos,
Ultravox,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Five Americans,
Eric Copeland,
Charles Mingus,
Alice Coltrane,
Average White Band,
Symarip,
Byron Stingily,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pagans,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Arcadia,
the Normal,
Godley & Creme,
Slave,
The Human League,
Pantytec,
Oblivians,
Bang On A Can,
the Germs,
Deadbeat,
The Moody Blues,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Peter and Kerry,
Pantaleimon,
Babytalk,
Freddie Wadling,
Mars,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.