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 Uruguay and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bang On A Can to the techno 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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Todd Rundgren,
The Kinks,
The Smiths,
Donny Hathaway,
Fear,
The Techniques,
Gang of Four,
Buzzcocks,
Severed Heads,
Young Marble Giants,
Subhumans,
Minor Threat,
Joey Negro,
Pulsallama,
Ultra Naté,
Sarah Menescal,
The Neon Judgement,
the Soft Cell,
Slick Rick,
Brand Nubian,
Half Japanese,
Man Parrish,
Electric Prunes,
The Gories,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
T. Rex,
Nirvana,
Qualms,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Yusef Lateef,
the Normal,
Eric Copeland,
Brothers Johnson,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Blues Magoos,
Erykah Badu,
The Angels of Light,
Agent Orange,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Divine Comedy,
Amazonics,
The Young Rascals,
Cymande,
Kool Moe Dee,
EPMD,
Icehouse,
X-Ray Spex,
DNA,
Shoche,
The Moody Blues,
Underground Resistance,
Todd Terry,
The Dead C,
Susan Cadogan,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.