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 Equatorial Guinea and from Manchester.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 guitar 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 Liliput to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Warren Ellis,
Sun City Girls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Pop Group,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dennis Brown,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ossler,
Jawbox,
Roxy Music,
Jeru the Damaja,
Theoretical Girls,
Symarip,
Sarah Menescal,
A Certain Ratio,
Subhumans,
the Association,
Anakelly,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Monks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eve St. Jones,
H. Thieme,
Skriet,
Joe Finger,
Rekid,
Rosa Yemen,
Max Romeo,
Hashim,
Tropical Tobacco,
Inner City,
Lou Reed,
Nils Olav,
Thompson Twins,
Sixth Finger,
Eden Ahbez,
FM Einheit,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barbara Tucker,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Guru Guru,
Lakeside,
The Count Five,
Simply Red,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jacob Miller,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Slackers,
Derrick Morgan,
Arcadia,
The Gun Club,
Animal Collective,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Tears for Fears,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Infiniti,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.