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 Colombia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Quadrant to the electroclash 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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every EPMD record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Index,
Tubeway Army,
Model 500,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Brothers Johnson,
The Last Poets,
Mad Mike,
Camouflage,
Swans,
Ice-T,
The Mojo Men,
John Cale,
Boz Scaggs,
E-Dancer,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Mummies,
Animal Collective,
R.M.O.,
Tropical Tobacco,
Smog,
Gang of Four,
the Bar-Kays,
Dennis Brown,
Tim Buckley,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Johnny Clarke,
Khruangbin,
Ten City,
The Residents,
John Holt,
Sonic Youth,
Thee Headcoats,
Prince Buster,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gang Starr,
Skriet,
Derrick May,
Audionom,
Goldenarms,
Flamin' Groovies,
Barrington Levy,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rod Modell,
Robert Görl,
The American Breed,
Panda Bear,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Shadows of Knight,
Severed Heads,
Average White Band,
The Electric Prunes,
The Dirtbombs,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Section 25,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Susan Cadogan,
The Barracudas,
Zero Boys,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.