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 San Marino and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro 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 Minor Threat to the grime 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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joey Negro,
Ronan,
The Dead C,
Wasted Youth,
The Moody Blues,
Fatback Band,
Hot Snakes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Public Enemy,
Pierre Henry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Boredoms,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
X-102,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bronski Beat,
The Dirtbombs,
The Divine Comedy,
The Busters,
Eurythmics,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kenny Larkin,
The Invisible,
Yusef Lateef,
Byron Stingily,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rosa Yemen,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Idris Muhammad,
The Toasters,
Wally Richardson,
Arcadia,
World's Most,
Neu!,
Magma,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Smoke,
One Last Wish,
DJ Style,
Kerri Chandler,
The Mummies,
Bobby Byrd,
Gang of Four,
Jacques Brel,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Groovy Waters,
Cheater Slicks,
The Blues Magoos,
Bush Tetras,
Aswad,
Deepchord,
June of 44,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Swans,
Adolescents,
Tears for Fears,
Max Romeo,
Parry Music,
the Slits,
Harpers Bizarre,
Section 25,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.