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 Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the sitar 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the crunk 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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Rotary Connection tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kas Product record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Deepchord,
Lucky Dragons,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Searchers,
Aswad,
Lyres,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ice-T,
Al Stewart,
The Blues Magoos,
Massinfluence,
Ultra Naté,
The Trojans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scrapy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gang of Four,
John Foxx,
Neu!,
Lalann,
Niagra,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ken Boothe,
Pantaleimon,
Shoche,
The Associates,
Black Pus,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Radiopuhelimet,
Clear Light,
Arcadia,
OOIOO,
Hardrive,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Marshall Jefferson,
Ponytail,
These Immortal Souls,
Vladislav Delay,
Kool Moe Dee,
Deakin,
Gil Scott Heron,
Eve St. Jones,
Faraquet,
Can,
Eli Mardock,
The Monks,
Mars,
Rakim,
The Skatalites,
The Selecter,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tomorrow,
Con Funk Shun,
Groovy Waters,
Fela Kuti,
DJ Sneak,
Bang On A Can,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.