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 Djibouti and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Cairo.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Joe Smooth. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
Dawn Penn,
The Selecter,
Groovy Waters,
Jeff Mills,
Unrelated Segments,
Chris Corsano,
Pharoah Sanders,
Funkadelic,
Das Ding,
Hoover,
Godley & Creme,
Donny Hathaway,
The Wake,
X-102,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Procol Harum,
Scrapy,
Swans,
Brass Construction,
Marcia Griffiths,
Liliput,
Soft Machine,
Pagans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Trumans Water,
Man Eating Sloth,
Saccharine Trust,
Rakim,
Lyres,
Bluetip,
Khruangbin,
Buzzcocks,
Marvin Gaye,
T. Rex,
The Walker Brothers,
Bauhaus,
Faraquet,
Sex Pistols,
Spoonie Gee,
The Cramps,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Black Sheep,
Lungfish,
Adolescents,
Juan Atkins,
Bobby Byrd,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Music Machine,
Barbara Tucker,
Country Teasers,
Derrick May,
Alice Coltrane,
Kerrie Biddell,
China Crisis,
The Moleskins,
The Star Department,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Gladiators,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gang of Four,
Dark Day,
The Doobie Brothers,
Model 500,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.