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 Singapore and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Camberwell Now to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Danielle Patucci,
Goldenarms,
Max Romeo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Vainqueur,
Gang Starr,
Black Flag,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Fela Kuti,
Grauzone,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Slick Rick,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Blancmange,
Duran Duran,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joey Negro,
Alice Coltrane,
Tim Buckley,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Victims,
Chrome,
Wolf Eyes,
The Sound,
Marshall Jefferson,
Reuben Wilson,
the Soft Cell,
Sex Pistols,
The Associates,
Supertramp,
Shoche,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fear,
Johnny Osbourne,
Eddi Front,
The Gap Band,
Lee Hazlewood,
Section 25,
Davy DMX,
Television,
Carl Craig,
The Cramps,
China Crisis,
Skriet,
The Slits,
Joyce Sims,
Laurel Aitken,
New York Dolls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Throbbing Gristle,
Camouflage,
The Modern Lovers,
Clear Light,
Excepter,
Franke,
Radio Birdman,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Funkadelic,
The Doors,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.