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 Honduras and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 B.T. Express to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Camberwell Now,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Piero Umiliani,
Spandau Ballet,
AZ,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Anakelly,
Godley & Creme,
Henry Cow,
The Blues Magoos,
Pantaleimon,
Negative Approach,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Names,
L. Decosne,
Saccharine Trust,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marvin Gaye,
Ohio Players,
Ultravox,
Jacques Brel,
Los Fastidios,
Todd Terry,
John Lydon,
Graham Central Station,
Oneida,
Altered Images,
Colin Newman,
Iggy Pop,
Flipper,
Nirvana,
The Mummies,
Jandek,
Lalann,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Avey Tare,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sonic Youth,
Panda Bear,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Agitation Free,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harpers Bizarre,
Hasil Adkins,
Sight & Sound,
Moebius,
the Normal,
The Moleskins,
Sugar Minott,
James White and The Blacks,
The Kinks,
Nils Olav,
Albert Ayler,
The Motions,
Harmonia,
Kerrie Biddell,
Fad Gadget,
Magazine,
Television Personalities,
Barrington Levy,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.