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 Ireland and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Big Daddy Kane to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Marine Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Ituana,
The Fortunes,
John Cale,
The Standells,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hasil Adkins,
The Remains,
Au Pairs,
Cameo,
The Mummies,
Swans,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Echospace,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Index,
Erasure,
The Toasters,
Joey Negro,
Bill Wells,
Qualms,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Smog,
A Certain Ratio,
Parry Music,
Neil Young,
Joy Division,
Letta Mbulu,
Iggy Pop,
Gang of Four,
Khruangbin,
Jerry's Kids,
Kurtis Blow,
Vladislav Delay,
Livin' Joy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cybotron,
Aaron Thompson,
Dual Sessions,
Wire,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Cowsills,
Drive Like Jehu,
This Heat,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lyres,
Zero Boys,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Panda Bear,
Talk Talk,
Ice-T,
Index,
The Misunderstood,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Isaac Hayes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Half Japanese,
Eli Mardock,
Arcadia,
Angry Samoans,
Von Mondo,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.