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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 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 Bizarre Inc. to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Can,
Index,
Max Romeo,
Trumans Water,
Kas Product,
Schoolly D,
Moss Icon,
Ossler,
Das Ding,
Spandau Ballet,
Popol Vuh,
The Angels of Light,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kenny Larkin,
Arthur Verocai,
The Durutti Column,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Camberwell Now,
Yaz,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Prince Buster,
PIL,
Bob Dylan,
Aswad,
Charles Mingus,
Barbara Tucker,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Hot Snakes,
Eric Copeland,
Suburban Knight,
Derrick May,
The Golliwogs,
Half Japanese,
The Dave Clark Five,
A Certain Ratio,
Deepchord,
Sparks,
Wolf Eyes,
The Residents,
Jacques Brel,
the Swans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Public Enemy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Gladiators,
Archie Shepp,
Skarface,
L. Decosne,
Siglo XX,
Barclay James Harvest,
Suicide,
Hardrive,
Dead Boys,
Japan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.