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 Dominican Republic and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Bush Tetras to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gil Scott Heron,
Prince Buster,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Donald Byrd,
The Invisible,
Radiohead,
The Pretty Things,
Easy Going,
Lucky Dragons,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wire,
the Normal,
Masters at Work,
David Axelrod,
Technova,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Golliwogs,
Donny Hathaway,
The Gap Band,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ornette Coleman,
Bill Wells,
UT,
Kerri Chandler,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
kango's stein massive,
Urselle,
Pussy Galore,
EPMD,
Public Image Ltd.,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Toni Rubio,
Funky Four + One,
The Fortunes,
Arthur Verocai,
Oblivians,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Bananas,
Buzzcocks,
ABC,
The Toasters,
The Dirtbombs,
Bang On A Can,
The Saints,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Red Krayola,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Angels of Light,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jawbox,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kaleidoscope,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.