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 Indonesia and from Manila.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bootsy Collins 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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Blues Magoos,
The Dirtbombs,
Absolute Body Control,
James White and The Blacks,
The Motions,
Agent Orange,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fall,
Radio Birdman,
Panda Bear,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Juan Atkins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Drexciya,
Monolake,
Spandau Ballet,
Anthony Braxton,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
E-Dancer,
The Zeros,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sparks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Warsaw,
Donny Hathaway,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mars,
Eli Mardock,
Arab on Radar,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Standells,
Boredoms,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Wake,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Vogues,
Pagans,
KRS-One,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Seeds,
Barrington Levy,
The Electric Prunes,
T. Rex,
Joe Smooth,
Ice-T,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Inner City,
a-ha,
Lindisfarne,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Stereo Dub,
Black Bananas,
The Busters,
June of 44,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eurythmics,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.