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 Dominica and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All ABBA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
the Slits,
The Stooges,
Pussy Galore,
Simply Red,
Cybotron,
Alphaville,
Ituana,
Negative Approach,
The Fire Engines,
Suicide,
Mantronix,
The Slits,
Albert Ayler,
Radio Birdman,
Prince Buster,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Cymande,
F. McDonald,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
X-Ray Spex,
DNA,
Michelle Simonal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Main Source,
Nick Fraelich,
Warsaw,
Motorama,
Jacques Brel,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ken Boothe,
The Vogues,
Spandau Ballet,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sparks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Blackbyrds,
Roxette,
Bootsy Collins,
Nils Olav,
Magazine,
Jacob Miller,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
A Certain Ratio,
Scott Walker,
Youth Brigade,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Isaac Hayes,
Roxy Music,
Visage,
Minor Threat,
T.S.O.L.,
Gang of Four,
Sun Ra,
Susan Cadogan,
KRS-One,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gregory Isaacs,
Nik Kershaw,
Intrusion,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.