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 Somalia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Wolf Eyes to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Smoke. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Rotary Connection,
Bush Tetras,
Max Romeo,
Main Source,
Gabor Szabo,
X-101,
Quantec,
Talk Talk,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Kinks,
The Angels of Light,
Funkadelic,
Rapeman,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Pretty Things,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Neon Judgement,
Bill Wells,
L. Decosne,
The Names,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jerry's Kids,
Pylon,
Niagra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Smog,
MDC,
Ponytail,
The Black Dice,
the Germs,
Tears for Fears,
Pet Shop Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
Little Man,
Desert Stars,
Alphaville,
The Skatalites,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mo-Dettes,
48th St. Collective,
Agitation Free,
Wings,
Slick Rick,
Tropical Tobacco,
Saccharine Trust,
Oneida,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joe Smooth,
Popol Vuh,
Fluxion,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Shuggie Otis,
Accadde A,
A Certain Ratio,
The Doobie Brothers,
Wolf Eyes,
The Offenders,
Crime,
John Lydon,
Brass Construction,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.