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 Solomon Islands and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Crash Course in Science to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
the Human League,
The Stooges,
Funkadelic,
The Saints,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Avey Tare,
Eric B and Rakim,
Faraquet,
The Searchers,
Fear,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Symarip,
The Trojans,
Bobby Womack,
The Cramps,
Tom Boy,
Hardrive,
Sarah Menescal,
Ronnie Foster,
Dennis Brown,
June of 44,
The Pop Group,
Wally Richardson,
Erykah Badu,
Alice Coltrane,
The Gun Club,
Ralphi Rosario,
Funky Four + One,
Erasure,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Thee Headcoats,
Suburban Knight,
Sällskapet,
June Days,
Bad Manners,
Blake Baxter,
Theoretical Girls,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eddi Front,
The Motions,
Depeche Mode,
Moebius,
Brick,
Archie Shepp,
The Busters,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Susan Cadogan,
X-Ray Spex,
Tomorrow,
Public Enemy,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nirvana,
Brothers Johnson,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sun City Girls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Little Man,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.