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 United Kingdom and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 David Bowie to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eric B and Rakim,
Roxy Music,
Joey Negro,
The Toasters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ohio Players,
Cheater Slicks,
The Angels of Light,
The Selecter,
Radiopuhelimet,
The United States of America,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roger Hodgson,
Popol Vuh,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Real Kids,
Kurtis Blow,
The Blues Magoos,
Max Romeo,
Main Source,
Royal Trux,
Cal Tjader,
Shoche,
Gang Starr,
Ultravox,
Sixth Finger,
Man Parrish,
Joensuu 1685,
The Knickerbockers,
The Gap Band,
The Moody Blues,
Delta 5,
Brass Construction,
Deakin,
Eddi Front,
Spoonie Gee,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Skaos,
Slave,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Gun Club,
The Kinks,
Television,
Duran Duran,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mars,
Ituana,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pylon,
CMW,
Bronski Beat,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mark Hollis,
Eurythmics,
Jacques Brel,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gang Green,
David McCallum,
Amon Düül,
Amazonics,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.