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 Bangladesh and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Flipper to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Andrew Hill,
Thee Headcoats,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sex Pistols,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Moss Icon,
Leonard Cohen,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Massinfluence,
Ossler,
Con Funk Shun,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Todd Rundgren,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Goldenarms,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Hardrive,
Roxette,
Gregory Isaacs,
H. Thieme,
Colin Newman,
Hot Snakes,
Loose Ends,
Excepter,
Archie Shepp,
World's Most,
Whodini,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kerri Chandler,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Christie,
Rapeman,
Glenn Branca,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Reuben Wilson,
Albert Ayler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bronski Beat,
Suburban Knight,
Connie Case,
Japan,
Bang On A Can,
Rosa Yemen,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Alice Coltrane,
Funkadelic,
Cymande,
Jacques Brel,
The Misunderstood,
Scan 7,
Audionom,
Rakim,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Blossom Toes,
Alison Limerick,
Johnny Osbourne,
David Bowie,
The Gladiators,
Rites of Spring,
The Motions,
Tres Demented,
Big Daddy Kane,
Junior Murvin,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.