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 Belarus and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 snare 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 The Skatalites to the funk 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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ohio Players,
World's Most,
Leonard Cohen,
The Techniques,
Darondo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scott Walker,
Harmonia,
Blossom Toes,
Stiv Bators,
The Grass Roots,
Minny Pops,
Graham Central Station,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
New Age Steppers,
Tom Boy,
June Days,
D'Angelo,
Black Pus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eden Ahbez,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mission of Burma,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
CMW,
Marc Almond,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Suburban Knight,
La Düsseldorf,
Malaria!,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Livin' Joy,
Surgeon,
Basic Channel,
Gang Starr,
Lalo Schifrin,
Aloha Tigers,
Section 25,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Stooges,
The Walker Brothers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Peter and Kerry,
the Germs,
Japan,
Easy Going,
Wasted Youth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Be Bop Deluxe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Misunderstood,
Lightning Bolt,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.