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 Hungary and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Maleditus Sound to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Grandmaster Flash,
Depeche Mode,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Amazonics,
Technova,
Fear,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Second Layer,
Alton Ellis,
Trumans Water,
The Moleskins,
Easy Going,
Deepchord,
These Immortal Souls,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Crooked Eye,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pussy Galore,
John Cale,
Thee Headcoats,
Eric Copeland,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bob Dylan,
Donald Byrd,
AZ,
Prince Buster,
Byron Stingily,
Boredoms,
The Blues Magoos,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Darondo,
Bluetip,
Chrome,
The Sonics,
Visage,
Rufus Thomas,
Porter Ricks,
Eddi Front,
Mark Hollis,
The Smoke,
Althea and Donna,
Davy DMX,
The Names,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Peter & Gordon,
Magazine,
Saccharine Trust,
D'Angelo,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Motions,
The Modern Lovers,
Accadde A,
Rod Modell,
The Evens,
Babytalk,
Pierre Henry,
Aaron Thompson,
Spoonie Gee,
The Dave Clark Five,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band.
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.