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 Cyprus and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Beijing.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Dirtbombs to the rock 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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Qualms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
The Gladiators,
The Seeds,
The Litter,
The Gun Club,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Desert Stars,
Zero Boys,
The Saints,
Cecil Taylor,
Grey Daturas,
James White and The Blacks,
Q65,
The Five Americans,
Eve St. Jones,
Depeche Mode,
The Trojans,
Josef K,
Boz Scaggs,
Ponytail,
Pharoah Sanders,
Duran Duran,
The Names,
New York Dolls,
Maleditus Sound,
The Sonics,
The Slits,
Fatback Band,
Inner City,
Tres Demented,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Subhumans,
Wally Richardson,
Bauhaus,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
La Düsseldorf,
The Shadows of Knight,
Spandau Ballet,
the Soft Cell,
Underground Resistance,
the Normal,
Brand Nubian,
Lalann,
Aloha Tigers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Altered Images,
Gichy Dan,
The Knickerbockers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Durutti Column,
Vainqueur,
Surgeon,
Yazoo,
R.M.O.,
the Association,
Arcadia,
Johnny Clarke,
Anthony Braxton,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hot Snakes,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.