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 China and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin 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 Sam Rivers to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Clear Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Arab on Radar,
Inner City,
The Skatalites,
B.T. Express,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Selecter,
Funky Four + One,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Pantaleimon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Marine Girls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sun City Girls,
The Fuzztones,
CMW,
Thee Headcoats,
The Smiths,
The Doobie Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Patti Smith,
The Martian,
Whodini,
Deadbeat,
Maurizio,
Ituana,
The Grass Roots,
Throbbing Gristle,
Reuben Wilson,
Niagra,
Tom Boy,
The Dirtbombs,
Soulsonic Force,
Quantec,
Ultra Naté,
the Association,
Second Layer,
Hashim,
Duran Duran,
Glenn Branca,
Lee Hazlewood,
Marshall Jefferson,
Das Ding,
Black Flag,
Wasted Youth,
Bill Wells,
Harry Pussy,
The Blues Magoos,
Negative Approach,
Eric Copeland,
Robert Hood,
Spandau Ballet,
Saccharine Trust,
Blossom Toes,
Pagans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Girls At Our Best!,
Freddie Wadling,
X-102,
Jesper Dahlback,
Harpers Bizarre,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.