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 Liberia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Salvador.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Harry Pussy to the techno 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
John Foxx,
Infiniti,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Remains,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ten City,
Half Japanese,
Frankie Knuckles,
China Crisis,
Prince Buster,
Cybotron,
Ponytail,
Mary Jane Girls,
Amon Düül II,
Little Man,
Skaos,
James White and The Blacks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Camouflage,
Sun City Girls,
Main Source,
the Slits,
Joe Smooth,
Flipper,
B.T. Express,
Johnny Clarke,
Agent Orange,
Duran Duran,
Dorothy Ashby,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Siglo XX,
Can,
Groovy Waters,
Ultravox,
The Fall,
The Real Kids,
Mad Mike,
Malaria!,
Rapeman,
Yazoo,
Black Flag,
Maurizio,
The Searchers,
The Smoke,
The Barracudas,
Qualms,
The Names,
Wire,
Bill Wells,
Echospace,
R.M.O.,
Pantaleimon,
John Coltrane,
L. Decosne,
Laurel Aitken,
Saccharine Trust,
Ossler,
Tres Demented,
The Happenings,
Maleditus Sound,
Cal Tjader,
Howard Jones,
Tommy Roe,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.