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 Antigua and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator 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 Deadbeat to the electroclash 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 Amon Düül. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow 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?
Depeche Mode,
The Fugs,
Sugar Minott,
Ralphi Rosario,
Alphaville,
Mr. Review,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Vogues,
Sex Pistols,
The J.B.'s,
Pantytec,
The Move,
Amazonics,
Eli Mardock,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Junior Murvin,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Pretty Things,
Mission of Burma,
Dead Boys,
PIL,
Television,
Ronnie Foster,
Glenn Branca,
the Soft Cell,
Steve Hackett,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Hashim,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Byrd,
Piero Umiliani,
Flash Fearless,
Chris Corsano,
Minor Threat,
Urselle,
Stockholm Monsters,
Malaria!,
Fluxion,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Intrusion,
Minnie Riperton,
The Gories,
Davy DMX,
Terry Callier,
The Motions,
Boz Scaggs,
Scan 7,
Gang Gang Dance,
Unrelated Segments,
Silicon Teens,
Interpol,
The Barracudas,
Oneida,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Stereo Dub,
The Skatalites,
The Cowsills,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Smiths,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Yazoo,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.