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 South Africa and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Johnny Clarke to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalann 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
The Beau Brummels,
The Searchers,
Graham Central Station,
Maleditus Sound,
Mandrill,
Au Pairs,
Sun Ra,
The Gladiators,
The Motions,
Metal Thangz,
New Age Steppers,
Joyce Sims,
Judy Mowatt,
Johnny Clarke,
The Standells,
Dead Boys,
Sixth Finger,
Black Flag,
Gil Scott Heron,
One Last Wish,
Lou Christie,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ponytail,
Piero Umiliani,
Alison Limerick,
Echospace,
Tropical Tobacco,
Flipper,
Crash Course in Science,
Moebius,
Banda Bassotti,
Tim Buckley,
Newcleus,
The Cramps,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Al Stewart,
Darondo,
Fear,
Eve St. Jones,
The Raincoats,
Interpol,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Erykah Badu,
Depeche Mode,
Isaac Hayes,
Khruangbin,
Outsiders,
Mark Hollis,
Siglo XX,
The Slackers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
Eric Dolphy,
Amon Düül II,
L. Decosne,
F. McDonald,
Man Eating Sloth,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.