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 Switzerland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Agitation Free to the electroclash 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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scan 7 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
The Smoke,
Laurel Aitken,
Ultravox,
Sällskapet,
The Standells,
Saccharine Trust,
Gil Scott Heron,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Yazoo,
Shoche,
Man Parrish,
The Angels of Light,
Camouflage,
Harmonia,
Matthew Bourne,
New York Dolls,
Cluster,
K-Klass,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Remains,
The Grass Roots,
Black Sheep,
Grandmaster Flash,
Basic Channel,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fatback Band,
John Lydon,
The Doors,
The Fuzztones,
T.S.O.L.,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Section 25,
the Swans,
Lalann,
Agent Orange,
The Monks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ituana,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kerri Chandler,
Parry Music,
Babytalk,
Jacob Miller,
Harry Pussy,
The Durutti Column,
Donald Byrd,
Tom Boy,
This Heat,
Flipper,
Visage,
Barry Ungar,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lou Christie,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sixth Finger,
Livin' Joy,
Gang Starr,
Franke,
Barclay James Harvest,
Brothers Johnson,
Peter & Gordon,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.