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 Nauru and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro 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 Liliput to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nico. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Althea and Donna,
Traffic Nightmare,
Simply Red,
DNA,
Audionom,
Minny Pops,
The Gun Club,
the Fania All-Stars,
X-Ray Spex,
The Smiths,
Crash Course in Science,
T.S.O.L.,
The Victims,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tres Demented,
The Grass Roots,
Roy Ayers,
Donald Byrd,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Severed Heads,
New Age Steppers,
Heaven 17,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Joe Finger,
Dave Gahan,
Easy Going,
Depeche Mode,
The Durutti Column,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Tim Buckley,
Hoover,
Metal Thangz,
Cybotron,
Henry Cow,
Electric Prunes,
Thee Headcoats,
Kas Product,
Robert Wyatt,
Pagans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joe Smooth,
The Kinks,
The Standells,
Avey Tare,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bobby Sherman,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Wings,
The American Breed,
The Leaves,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pylon,
Y Pants,
The Searchers,
Black Flag,
New Order,
Arthur Verocai,
Eden Ahbez,
The Move,
Goldenarms,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.