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 Laos and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb 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 Dawn Penn to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Mighty Diamonds,
U.S. Maple,
The Black Dice,
Neu!,
Khruangbin,
Bad Manners,
Harry Pussy,
In Retrospect,
Ultravox,
Icehouse,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jimmy McGriff,
One Last Wish,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
New Order,
The Detroit Cobras,
Blancmange,
June of 44,
Terrestrial Tones,
Boredoms,
Infiniti,
UT,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Walker Brothers,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Moody Blues,
MC5,
Public Enemy,
Prince Buster,
D'Angelo,
John Cale,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Model 500,
Joyce Sims,
The Misunderstood,
Smog,
Pantaleimon,
Magazine,
Mark Hollis,
Lightning Bolt,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hashim,
Faraquet,
Malaria!,
Suicide,
Roy Ayers,
The Doors,
Sam Rivers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Slackers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Camberwell Now,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.