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 Bahamas and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Trojans to the funk 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
Ultra Naté,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Infiniti,
In Retrospect,
Shuggie Otis,
Animal Collective,
Stereo Dub,
Swell Maps,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Buckinghams,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rites of Spring,
Lalann,
Susan Cadogan,
Todd Terry,
Soft Cell,
Dennis Brown,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sun Ra,
Dead Boys,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roxy Music,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Main Source,
Organ,
Stiv Bators,
Jeff Lynne,
Tropical Tobacco,
Talk Talk,
Outsiders,
Cheater Slicks,
Idris Muhammad,
Index,
Bill Near,
Peter and Kerry,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Zapp,
The Remains,
New York Dolls,
Joey Negro,
Guru Guru,
Zero Boys,
Letta Mbulu,
Robert Görl,
Stockholm Monsters,
Yazoo,
Inner City,
the Normal,
Carl Craig,
Angry Samoans,
CMW,
The United States of America,
Lindisfarne,
Blake Baxter,
The Associates,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Moebius,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.