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 Brunei and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Stockholm Monsters to the dance 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 Silicon Teens. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Audionom,
Flipper,
Throbbing Gristle,
New Age Steppers,
Gichy Dan,
Talk Talk,
Pylon,
The Red Krayola,
Jacques Brel,
Eric Dolphy,
Television,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
World's Most,
Con Funk Shun,
Sister Nancy,
Lungfish,
Ralphi Rosario,
Matthew Halsall,
The Leaves,
Negative Approach,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Scientists,
Gregory Isaacs,
Dennis Brown,
Groovy Waters,
X-102,
Bang On A Can,
Boogie Down Productions,
Soft Cell,
The Doobie Brothers,
Aswad,
Mary Jane Girls,
Panda Bear,
The Music Machine,
Bauhaus,
The Blackbyrds,
Pantytec,
Half Japanese,
Morten Harket,
Charles Mingus,
Cluster,
June Days,
ABC,
Scion,
Barry Ungar,
Nas,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roger Hodgson,
Stetsasonic,
Sällskapet,
Barclay James Harvest,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Boz Scaggs,
Alice Coltrane,
Chris & Cosey,
Sex Pistols,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Sixth Finger,
Graham Central Station,
Intrusion,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.