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 Bolivia and from Calgary.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Fela Kuti to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
The Names,
Mission of Burma,
Bang On A Can,
Fugazi,
Byron Stingily,
Quantec,
John Cale,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Thompson Twins,
Stiv Bators,
Ultra Naté,
CMW,
R.M.O.,
MDC,
The Mojo Men,
Liliput,
Tim Buckley,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Half Japanese,
Severed Heads,
The Slackers,
One Last Wish,
Suburban Knight,
Aural Exciters,
June of 44,
Joe Smooth,
Banda Bassotti,
Mandrill,
Prince Buster,
Bobby Sherman,
Amon Düül II,
Monolake,
The Divine Comedy,
Nik Kershaw,
H. Thieme,
The Saints,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Doors,
Terry Callier,
Bizarre Inc.,
Malaria!,
Tommy Roe,
Los Fastidios,
Agent Orange,
Bill Near,
Ossler,
The Knickerbockers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Motorama,
Lungfish,
Porter Ricks,
The Gun Club,
Eric B and Rakim,
Archie Shepp,
Radio Birdman,
The Dirtbombs,
Darondo,
Visage,
Fad Gadget,
Popol Vuh,
FM Einheit,
The Fire Engines,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.