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 Mauritius and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba 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 Velvet Underground to the punk 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Rosa Yemen,
Howard Jones,
Pussy Galore,
Funky Four + One,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
ABBA,
The Real Kids,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Buckinghams,
Black Moon,
Tom Boy,
The Raincoats,
Das Ding,
Radiopuhelimet,
Infiniti,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ultra Naté,
Nik Kershaw,
Kurtis Blow,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Aural Exciters,
The Human League,
Cecil Taylor,
Roger Hodgson,
Johnny Clarke,
Sonic Youth,
Y Pants,
Tres Demented,
Thee Headcoats,
The Residents,
The Evens,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
UT,
The Pop Group,
Brothers Johnson,
Bootsy Collins,
Crispian St. Peters,
10cc,
The Fortunes,
Dead Boys,
Joyce Sims,
John Holt,
The Saints,
Roxy Music,
June Days,
Echospace,
John Lydon,
the Bar-Kays,
Sarah Menescal,
Q and Not U,
Davy DMX,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Names,
Byron Stingily,
Harry Pussy,
The Techniques,
Procol Harum,
The Slackers,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.