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 Croatia and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Maurizio to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wake. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Stetsasonic,
Avey Tare,
The Dirtbombs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Second Layer,
Bob Dylan,
Eden Ahbez,
The Divine Comedy,
Stiv Bators,
The Blues Magoos,
Soulsonic Force,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Lucky Dragons,
Mary Jane Girls,
Deadbeat,
Subhumans,
Marmalade,
Cal Tjader,
Eurythmics,
Kayak,
Nirvana,
Josef K,
Shoche,
Crash Course in Science,
John Holt,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Camberwell Now,
The Flesh Eaters,
New Order,
Oblivians,
The Last Poets,
The Offenders,
Eli Mardock,
Rapeman,
FM Einheit,
Don Cherry,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Bananas,
James White and The Blacks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sound Behaviour,
DJ Style,
Gastr Del Sol,
Hasil Adkins,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
X-Ray Spex,
Underground Resistance,
The Martian,
Gang of Four,
The Fall,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tom Boy,
Joy Division,
Charles Mingus,
The Barracudas,
Darondo,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.