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 Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 John Cale to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
Wasted Youth,
The Buckinghams,
Bill Wells,
Max Romeo,
Magma,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Eden Ahbez,
The Searchers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
X-Ray Spex,
China Crisis,
Porter Ricks,
Deepchord,
Black Pus,
Cheater Slicks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rekid,
Infiniti,
Lungfish,
The Dave Clark Five,
John Foxx,
Alton Ellis,
The Litter,
Popol Vuh,
The Selecter,
Reagan Youth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lou Christie,
James White and The Blacks,
Eric Copeland,
The Cramps,
Lyres,
Das Ding,
Desert Stars,
Basic Channel,
Soulsonic Force,
Ultimate Spinach,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bob Dylan,
Saccharine Trust,
The Invisible,
Mad Mike,
Barrington Levy,
Colin Newman,
Khruangbin,
CMW,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ohio Players,
Oblivians,
a-ha,
Bobby Womack,
New Order,
Youth Brigade,
Man Parrish,
T. Rex,
The Mummies,
Alice Coltrane,
The Detroit Cobras,
F. McDonald,
New York Dolls,
U.S. Maple,
The J.B.'s,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.