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 Thailand and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Funkadelic to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Grass Roots,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Organ,
Panda Bear,
Siglo XX,
Talk Talk,
Public Enemy,
Black Pus,
The Pretty Things,
Rhythm & Sound,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Easy Going,
Theoretical Girls,
The American Breed,
Mark Hollis,
Sexual Harrassment,
Hardrive,
Max Romeo,
Frankie Knuckles,
ABBA,
Magazine,
John Cale,
Camouflage,
D'Angelo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
World's Most,
H. Thieme,
Rosa Yemen,
The Buckinghams,
The Angels of Light,
Trumans Water,
Accadde A,
Lightning Bolt,
Erasure,
DJ Style,
Reuben Wilson,
The Barracudas,
Sound Behaviour,
Radio Birdman,
Anakelly,
Bobby Byrd,
The Seeds,
Junior Murvin,
Susan Cadogan,
Janne Schatter,
Tears for Fears,
Dawn Penn,
Subhumans,
Peter and Kerry,
Popol Vuh,
Con Funk Shun,
New York Dolls,
A Certain Ratio,
The Standells,
The Misunderstood,
Television,
Eric Copeland,
Brothers Johnson,
The Blackbyrds,
Youth Brigade,
Sun Ra,
Bronski Beat,
Deadbeat,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.