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 Mauritius and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 marimba 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 Sound Behaviour to the rock 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 Ten City. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Pagans,
T. Rex,
Archie Shepp,
Harmonia,
Arcadia,
The Dirtbombs,
Grauzone,
Alphaville,
Boredoms,
Smog,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sister Nancy,
Outsiders,
Robert Hood,
Lyres,
Pulsallama,
The Grass Roots,
The Associates,
Minnie Riperton,
Scott Walker,
Mary Jane Girls,
Khruangbin,
Ornette Coleman,
Crooked Eye,
Circle Jerks,
Piero Umiliani,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tres Demented,
Malaria!,
Rapeman,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Agent Orange,
Ossler,
Livin' Joy,
K-Klass,
The Smoke,
Buzzcocks,
The Index,
Idris Muhammad,
The Motions,
Brick,
The Martian,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Can,
The Invisible,
Junior Murvin,
Nation of Ulysses,
Anakelly,
PIL,
Metal Thangz,
Zero Boys,
The Barracudas,
Lindisfarne,
In Retrospect,
Bobby Womack,
Sound Behaviour,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Joe Smooth,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Jawbox,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.