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 South Africa and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Mad Mike to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 a-ha. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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 a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Royal Trux,
Danielle Patucci,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bootsy Collins,
Grauzone,
Nation of Ulysses,
Whodini,
Faust,
Jandek,
Eric Copeland,
Bluetip,
Charles Mingus,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nik Kershaw,
Sex Pistols,
Mars,
The Happenings,
LL Cool J,
Thompson Twins,
Rapeman,
Masters at Work,
Bill Wells,
Kas Product,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Average White Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lower 48,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stockholm Monsters,
Yazoo,
Crime,
New York Dolls,
Kool Moe Dee,
Alice Coltrane,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Fuzztones,
Spoonie Gee,
The Smiths,
Sandy B,
Bob Dylan,
Trumans Water,
The Litter,
Erykah Badu,
These Immortal Souls,
H. Thieme,
a-ha,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Cramps,
Sound Behaviour,
Jawbox,
Faraquet,
10cc,
The Cowsills,
Curtis Mayfield,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Panda Bear,
Pussy Galore,
Brick,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.