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 Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Gun Club 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
The Raincoats,
Thee Headcoats,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Outsiders,
Sarah Menescal,
Wire,
Avey Tare,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
L. Decosne,
Max Romeo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Soul II Soul,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eli Mardock,
Peter & Gordon,
Niagra,
FM Einheit,
John Foxx,
The Sound,
X-102,
Sandy B,
Minutemen,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Motorama,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fear,
Vladislav Delay,
The Vogues,
the Soft Cell,
Spoonie Gee,
James White and The Blacks,
The Stooges,
Michelle Simonal,
Shoche,
Throbbing Gristle,
Maurizio,
Blossom Toes,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ituana,
Sixth Finger,
LL Cool J,
Loose Ends,
Gil Scott Heron,
Moby Grape,
Mary Jane Girls,
Maleditus Sound,
Bronski Beat,
Reagan Youth,
F. McDonald,
Animal Collective,
Chris & Cosey,
Theoretical Girls,
John Cale,
Amazonics,
John Holt,
Q and Not U,
Zero Boys,
Basic Channel,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.