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 Sudan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tehran.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 World's Most to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
The United States of America,
the Human League,
Tom Boy,
Swans,
Derrick May,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Divine Comedy,
Stiv Bators,
D'Angelo,
Pagans,
Bobby Byrd,
The Walker Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
The Slackers,
Wasted Youth,
John Foxx,
Matthew Halsall,
The Sound,
Popol Vuh,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Monks,
The Mojo Men,
The Buckinghams,
ABC,
Bad Manners,
Peter and Kerry,
Dennis Brown,
Cal Tjader,
Soul Sonic Force,
Con Funk Shun,
Y Pants,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mr. Review,
Sun City Girls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Crooked Eye,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
John Lydon,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Barrington Levy,
The Invisible,
Jimmy McGriff,
Minutemen,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Angels of Light,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Soul II Soul,
Cameo,
Cybotron,
Trumans Water,
Frankie Knuckles,
Drive Like Jehu,
Anakelly,
Magma,
Albert Ayler,
The Dead C,
Ronnie Foster,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.