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 Luxembourg and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Tremeloes 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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eurythmics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Alison Limerick,
Surgeon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sugar Minott,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marcia Griffiths,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sam Rivers,
Robert Wyatt,
Grauzone,
Goldenarms,
the Germs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Make Up,
This Heat,
Junior Murvin,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Pus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Arab on Radar,
The Skatalites,
Ponytail,
Pere Ubu,
Colin Newman,
The Index,
Mr. Review,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dual Sessions,
Wasted Youth,
The Evens,
Dave Gahan,
Nas,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Stooges,
John Foxx,
Tropical Tobacco,
Index,
Bobby Byrd,
Moby Grape,
Gang Starr,
The Dirtbombs,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Black Dice,
Easy Going,
Dawn Penn,
Guru Guru,
Saccharine Trust,
Judy Mowatt,
Stiv Bators,
Jerry's Kids,
Todd Terry,
Scan 7,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sound Behaviour,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Offenders,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Hoover,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.