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 Kiribati and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Blake Baxter to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
T. Rex,
Gong,
Metal Thangz,
Smog,
Pagans,
Robert Hood,
The Saints,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Boz Scaggs,
Pylon,
Crooked Eye,
Joensuu 1685,
The Mummies,
The Doobie Brothers,
Little Man,
Minny Pops,
Crash Course in Science,
Sister Nancy,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Gun Club,
Royal Trux,
Ituana,
Pharoah Sanders,
Schoolly D,
Rapeman,
X-101,
Icehouse,
Cymande,
Ultravox,
Model 500,
AZ,
Bobby Sherman,
Arthur Verocai,
Maleditus Sound,
The Gap Band,
The Neon Judgement,
Unwound,
Roxette,
Mandrill,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Freddie Wadling,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rakim,
Dark Day,
Cal Tjader,
Circle Jerks,
Monks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Mo-Dettes,
Junior Murvin,
Eurythmics,
June Days,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pulsallama,
Pussy Galore,
Stereo Dub,
John Foxx,
Neil Young,
Bauhaus,
The Offenders,
D'Angelo,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.