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 St Lucia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 CMW to the funk 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 Peter and Kerry. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Unrelated Segments,
Depeche Mode,
In Retrospect,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pantaleimon,
the Human League,
Sonic Youth,
Kayak,
Rosa Yemen,
Aloha Tigers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Wake,
Mantronix,
Ultravox,
These Immortal Souls,
Silicon Teens,
Hasil Adkins,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Durutti Column,
Eurythmics,
Ossler,
Black Bananas,
Panda Bear,
Yaz,
Monks,
Trumans Water,
Nirvana,
Roxy Music,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Skarface,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
June Days,
Ronnie Foster,
Drexciya,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Rufus Thomas,
Easy Going,
The Litter,
Nas,
The Flesh Eaters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kurtis Blow,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Index,
The Kinks,
Scan 7,
H. Thieme,
Joey Negro,
Loose Ends,
The Searchers,
The Human League,
Yusef Lateef,
Audionom,
Bill Near,
Massinfluence,
Kool Moe Dee,
Danielle Patucci,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.