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 Maldives and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 Grandmaster Flash to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Heaven 17,
Severed Heads,
Henry Cow,
the Soft Cell,
Kool Moe Dee,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Angry Samoans,
Swans,
Lightning Bolt,
The Wake,
MC5,
Flipper,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Unwound,
The Young Rascals,
Sam Rivers,
Colin Newman,
Harmonia,
Hot Snakes,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fire Engines,
Kaleidoscope,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Blues Magoos,
Rotary Connection,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Magazine,
DJ Sneak,
48th St. Collective,
Accadde A,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Fluxion,
Tomorrow,
The Associates,
The Standells,
The Fugs,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Buckinghams,
Camberwell Now,
Mandrill,
Ice-T,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pere Ubu,
The Fuzztones,
Thee Headcoats,
The Electric Prunes,
Theoretical Girls,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Beau Brummels,
Electric Prunes,
Visage,
Black Sheep,
Cluster,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eurythmics,
the Germs,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.