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 Cuba and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Stiv Bators to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Sight & Sound,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Slits,
Franke,
Ken Boothe,
Kurtis Blow,
Crash Course in Science,
Frankie Knuckles,
Throbbing Gristle,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kaleidoscope,
Derrick Morgan,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Josef K,
Lou Reed,
Marc Almond,
Funkadelic,
The Tremeloes,
Fear,
Sister Nancy,
Lower 48,
Soul Sonic Force,
Harry Pussy,
The Dirtbombs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Minutemen,
The Star Department,
The Litter,
X-101,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Minnie Riperton,
Toni Rubio,
Darondo,
the Soft Cell,
Ornette Coleman,
a-ha,
Charles Mingus,
Vainqueur,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roxy Music,
Matthew Bourne,
Subhumans,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Reagan Youth,
Sonny Sharrock,
Circle Jerks,
Niagra,
The Young Rascals,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Alphaville,
The Neon Judgement,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jerry's Kids,
Max Romeo,
Pussy Galore,
The Barracudas,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.