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 Venezuela and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter & Gordon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Slick Rick,
Mo-Dettes,
the Soft Cell,
Urselle,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Mummies,
MC5,
PIL,
Brick,
The Cramps,
The Leaves,
Nation of Ulysses,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Henry Cow,
The Dave Clark Five,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ludus,
Ossler,
The Star Department,
DNA,
The Angels of Light,
John Coltrane,
Malaria!,
The Blackbyrds,
Y Pants,
Television Personalities,
Amazonics,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Pretty Things,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Suicide,
Soul Sonic Force,
Cecil Taylor,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Sound,
The Saints,
Charles Mingus,
Ten City,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Sonics,
Maleditus Sound,
Black Bananas,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dennis Brown,
Alice Coltrane,
The Evens,
Echospace,
X-102,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Womack,
Black Sheep,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.