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 Vanuatu and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Brand Nubian to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Spandau Ballet,
The Dirtbombs,
CMW,
Black Sheep,
Pierre Henry,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Associates,
Mars,
Graham Central Station,
OOIOO,
Deepchord,
Delta 5,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Sound,
Qualms,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Yazoo,
Young Marble Giants,
Bootsy Collins,
Tubeway Army,
Tommy Roe,
Rekid,
Blossom Toes,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Wally Richardson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mantronix,
Sonic Youth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Slits,
Mr. Review,
Donald Byrd,
The Alarm Clocks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Reagan Youth,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Neon Judgement,
The Names,
Agitation Free,
Wolf Eyes,
Marc Almond,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Slick Rick,
a-ha,
DJ Sneak,
Todd Terry,
Infiniti,
Eve St. Jones,
Unwound,
The Gories,
Howard Jones,
Sexual Harrassment,
Spoonie Gee,
Ohio Players,
John Lydon,
Rosa Yemen,
Gong,
Section 25,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.