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 Belgium and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Angels of Light to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
Public Enemy,
Echospace,
Harmonia,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
New York Dolls,
Monks,
Interpol,
New Age Steppers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Toasters,
Icehouse,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Black Sheep,
Metal Thangz,
Radio Birdman,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Simply Red,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Nico,
Visage,
Subhumans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tears for Fears,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Banda Bassotti,
the Swans,
Stiv Bators,
Television Personalities,
the Human League,
Scott Walker,
Deadbeat,
Mission of Burma,
Spandau Ballet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Chrome,
Agitation Free,
Marine Girls,
Connie Case,
The Birthday Party,
Black Flag,
Eric B and Rakim,
X-Ray Spex,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Doobie Brothers,
Yaz,
Erasure,
Symarip,
the Sonics,
June of 44,
John Holt,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minny Pops,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Litter,
The Black Dice,
Buzzcocks,
Max Romeo,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.