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 Uzbekistan and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cybotron to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Cybotron,
Public Enemy,
Ken Boothe,
Nirvana,
Wasted Youth,
La Düsseldorf,
Half Japanese,
the Normal,
Moss Icon,
Bang On A Can,
Accadde A,
The Electric Prunes,
Infiniti,
Crime,
Unwound,
David McCallum,
Josef K,
Lower 48,
Unrelated Segments,
Traffic Nightmare,
Drive Like Jehu,
Max Romeo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Robert Wyatt,
Sight & Sound,
Pharoah Sanders,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Youth Brigade,
Reagan Youth,
Henry Cow,
Tubeway Army,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Deadbeat,
The Gories,
The Blackbyrds,
Bush Tetras,
Procol Harum,
The Blues Magoos,
Malaria!,
The Dirtbombs,
Robert Hood,
Crooked Eye,
Black Sheep,
Whodini,
Nils Olav,
Chrome,
The Wake,
John Foxx,
John Holt,
Erasure,
Hot Snakes,
Sun Ra,
Joensuu 1685,
John Coltrane,
Oblivians,
Joey Negro,
New York Dolls,
Donald Byrd,
Essential Logic,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.