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 Ivory Coast and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 arpeggiator 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Sparks,
The Remains,
Rod Modell,
Technova,
Connie Case,
The Human League,
Excepter,
Fluxion,
The Mummies,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Angry Samoans,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rapeman,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Niagra,
Wally Richardson,
X-101,
Boz Scaggs,
Gang Green,
Little Man,
DJ Style,
The Zeros,
Unwound,
Icehouse,
Mission of Burma,
Dawn Penn,
Rites of Spring,
Rekid,
Theoretical Girls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Brick,
Sister Nancy,
Wings,
Grauzone,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Star Department,
Jeff Lynne,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ituana,
La Düsseldorf,
Sonny Sharrock,
EPMD,
DJ Sneak,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Matthew Halsall,
Dave Gahan,
Scott Walker,
Junior Murvin,
The Gap Band,
Bang On A Can,
The Happenings,
Adolescents,
Drive Like Jehu,
Roy Ayers,
The Tremeloes,
The Last Poets,
Aural Exciters,
Barclay James Harvest,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.