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 Senegal and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ponytail 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Birthday Party,
The Dave Clark Five,
Amon Düül II,
Jawbox,
The Busters,
the Soft Cell,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Traffic Nightmare,
Cheater Slicks,
Quando Quango,
Bush Tetras,
Idris Muhammad,
Scrapy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Fugs,
The Dead C,
Arab on Radar,
Saccharine Trust,
Interpol,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Terry Callier,
Tomorrow,
Rhythm & Sound,
Joe Smooth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Magma,
The Remains,
Harry Pussy,
Pantaleimon,
JFA,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Heaven 17,
10cc,
Model 500,
Mission of Burma,
Aural Exciters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ken Boothe,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Slackers,
Soft Machine,
Brick,
Tom Boy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Dead Boys,
The Mojo Men,
David Axelrod,
The Fortunes,
Kayak,
The Smiths,
Colin Newman,
Sparks,
Whodini,
Henry Cow,
Letta Mbulu,
Dennis Brown,
Zapp,
Little Man,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.