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 Romania and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Fear to the disco 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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Teasers,
Dead Boys,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Black Moon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yazoo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Mojo Men,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Con Funk Shun,
The Pop Group,
Jeff Mills,
Audionom,
Bootsy Collins,
Jawbox,
Barrington Levy,
Joyce Sims,
Graham Central Station,
Spandau Ballet,
Scratch Acid,
Mr. Review,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
kango's stein massive,
Charles Mingus,
the Germs,
Oblivians,
Visage,
Bronski Beat,
T. Rex,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Vladislav Delay,
Aswad,
The Litter,
Young Marble Giants,
Sixth Finger,
Kenny Larkin,
Angry Samoans,
K-Klass,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Monks,
Hardrive,
Robert Wyatt,
Gang Gang Dance,
New Order,
Eurythmics,
Dark Day,
Glambeats Corp.,
Television,
Monks,
Main Source,
Y Pants,
Alphaville,
E-Dancer,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Joe Finger,
China Crisis,
X-102,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultravox,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.