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 Latvia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 chamberlin 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 The Real Kids to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Germs,
Boz Scaggs,
Cymande,
Neu!,
Lucky Dragons,
Henry Cow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Funkadelic,
New York Dolls,
Gang Starr,
Pere Ubu,
The Blues Magoos,
Swell Maps,
Jeff Mills,
The Victims,
Rekid,
kango's stein massive,
Mandrill,
B.T. Express,
Quadrant,
Joyce Sims,
Junior Murvin,
Livin' Joy,
Subhumans,
Bobby Womack,
Sex Pistols,
Alison Limerick,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ronnie Foster,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Evens,
Minny Pops,
The Durutti Column,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gregory Isaacs,
Arcadia,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ultimate Spinach,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fatback Band,
Newcleus,
Reagan Youth,
Marshall Jefferson,
Robert Görl,
Rakim,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ornette Coleman,
Soft Cell,
Easy Going,
The Walker Brothers,
Altered Images,
Technova,
Flamin' Groovies,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kurtis Blow,
Grauzone,
Dark Day,
Soul Sonic Force,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.