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 Nauru and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 synthesizer 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the crunk 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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Human League,
Arcadia,
Laurel Aitken,
Pole,
Aloha Tigers,
Patti Smith,
Isaac Hayes,
Spandau Ballet,
Barry Ungar,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Knickerbockers,
Infiniti,
OOIOO,
Tres Demented,
Mars,
Thee Headcoats,
Motorama,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jacques Brel,
June of 44,
This Heat,
Magma,
Faraquet,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Khruangbin,
Altered Images,
Johnny Clarke,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ponytail,
Inner City,
Animal Collective,
Johnny Osbourne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pierre Henry,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Con Funk Shun,
Adolescents,
Aswad,
Carl Craig,
Joey Negro,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Guru Guru,
Desert Stars,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
DNA,
Harry Pussy,
The Durutti Column,
Trumans Water,
the Sonics,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Derrick May,
Wasted Youth,
Moby Grape,
Colin Newman,
Henry Cow,
Brick,
The Searchers,
Oblivians,
Suicide,
The Gap Band,
Warren Ellis,
Young Marble Giants,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.