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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 Mexico City and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Black Pus to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Niagra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Fela Kuti,
Scott Walker,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Skatalites,
Fugazi,
Aswad,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Walker Brothers,
Vladislav Delay,
Stockholm Monsters,
Minor Threat,
Eden Ahbez,
David McCallum,
Malaria!,
Intrusion,
Reuben Wilson,
The Slackers,
The Gun Club,
Wire,
The Associates,
Gang Starr,
Mad Mike,
Unwound,
Scratch Acid,
Das Ding,
Soft Cell,
the Bar-Kays,
Gastr Del Sol,
Groovy Waters,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Robert Hood,
kango's stein massive,
Lightning Bolt,
Sight & Sound,
Sixth Finger,
Rotary Connection,
Neil Young,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Tears for Fears,
These Immortal Souls,
Glenn Branca,
Graham Central Station,
The Red Krayola,
Japan,
Robert Wyatt,
Brick,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Minutemen,
the Soft Cell,
Hasil Adkins,
The Monks,
Audionom,
Warren Ellis,
Pole,
Spandau Ballet,
The Standells,
Fear,
The American Breed,
Eric Copeland,
Todd Rundgren,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.