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 Italy and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Lyres to the jazz 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Visage,
ABC,
Main Source,
Franke,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Althea and Donna,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Reuben Wilson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thompson Twins,
The Cowsills,
Radio Birdman,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
a-ha,
Pantytec,
The Smiths,
John Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
Mo-Dettes,
The Durutti Column,
Todd Rundgren,
Reagan Youth,
Agitation Free,
The Offenders,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Half Japanese,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bush Tetras,
Television Personalities,
The New Christs,
The Vogues,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mark Hollis,
Flipper,
Malaria!,
The Beau Brummels,
The Pretty Things,
Rufus Thomas,
Jerry's Kids,
Scan 7,
James White and The Blacks,
the Slits,
The Gladiators,
Zapp,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Minutemen,
Stereo Dub,
Nils Olav,
Laurel Aitken,
The Music Machine,
China Crisis,
John Lydon,
Toni Rubio,
ABBA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the 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.