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 Guinea and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Black Dice to the jazz 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 The Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
LL Cool J,
Index,
Skriet,
Fluxion,
Johnny Clarke,
Darondo,
The J.B.'s,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Boredoms,
The Modern Lovers,
ABC,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Underground Resistance,
Jeff Mills,
The Motions,
Banda Bassotti,
Wire,
Theoretical Girls,
Scrapy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mission of Burma,
The Dead C,
Althea and Donna,
Nation of Ulysses,
Infiniti,
48th St. Collective,
DNA,
a-ha,
Pierre Henry,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joe Smooth,
Pagans,
The Gories,
The Five Americans,
Minnie Riperton,
China Crisis,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cowsills,
The Leaves,
AZ,
Eli Mardock,
The Last Poets,
Rekid,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Iggy Pop,
Aswad,
The Moleskins,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lightning Bolt,
DJ Sneak,
Alton Ellis,
Piero Umiliani,
Judy Mowatt,
Japan,
Bobby Byrd,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sugar Minott,
Sex Pistols,
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.