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 Chad and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 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 Barry Ungar to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Crooked Eye,
10cc,
Jerry's Kids,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Heaven 17,
The Monks,
Stockholm Monsters,
John Coltrane,
Angry Samoans,
Quantec,
Sixth Finger,
Infiniti,
Lalo Schifrin,
Goldenarms,
The Skatalites,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eurythmics,
CMW,
Rapeman,
The Knickerbockers,
The American Breed,
Eli Mardock,
The Zeros,
Eric Copeland,
Erykah Badu,
DJ Style,
ABBA,
Brand Nubian,
Fad Gadget,
Simply Red,
Negative Approach,
the Slits,
Agitation Free,
Mo-Dettes,
Rakim,
The Raincoats,
The Names,
The Fortunes,
kango's stein massive,
Ice-T,
Jeff Lynne,
OOIOO,
The Moleskins,
Derrick Morgan,
Niagra,
Black Flag,
Skriet,
Loose Ends,
The Cure,
The Five Americans,
Organ,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sun City Girls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Circle Jerks,
Robert Wyatt,
LL Cool J,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.