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 Mozambique and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the 808 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 Rod Modell to the jazz 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Harry Pussy,
The Pop Group,
The J.B.'s,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tom Boy,
Wire,
The Standells,
Danielle Patucci,
Moby Grape,
Bush Tetras,
Make Up,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Anthony Braxton,
Y Pants,
The Neon Judgement,
The Black Dice,
Gong,
Eve St. Jones,
Suburban Knight,
One Last Wish,
Lalann,
Massinfluence,
DJ Sneak,
Marmalade,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ituana,
Carl Craig,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Oblivians,
JFA,
The Smoke,
Second Layer,
Cal Tjader,
Man Parrish,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rosa Yemen,
Soulsonic Force,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Franke,
Jawbox,
Q65,
Kas Product,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Dead C,
Dark Day,
China Crisis,
Minnie Riperton,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Spoonie Gee,
Stockholm Monsters,
Drive Like Jehu,
Nas,
Von Mondo,
The Gories,
Crispian St. Peters,
Motorama,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.