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 Azerbaijan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Copenhagen.
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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Harry Pussy to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Donald Byrd,
Gang Green,
Pagans,
Derrick Morgan,
Chrome,
Amon Düül,
Model 500,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dorothy Ashby,
Silicon Teens,
Cybotron,
Carl Craig,
X-Ray Spex,
T. Rex,
The Alarm Clocks,
Boz Scaggs,
Robert Wyatt,
Eddi Front,
Hoover,
Boredoms,
Barbara Tucker,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Country Teasers,
Sister Nancy,
a-ha,
Cecil Taylor,
The Birthday Party,
Pylon,
The Seeds,
The Detroit Cobras,
Soulsonic Force,
The Music Machine,
The Selecter,
The Divine Comedy,
Fear,
The Toasters,
The Flesh Eaters,
Derrick May,
The Martian,
Section 25,
Rites of Spring,
Clear Light,
The Durutti Column,
Anthony Braxton,
Zapp,
Dawn Penn,
Franke,
Eden Ahbez,
Ohio Players,
Kerrie Biddell,
Alice Coltrane,
Bill Wells,
Skriet,
ABC,
The Happenings,
Aural Exciters,
The Mummies,
Suicide,
Archie Shepp,
Mr. Review,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.