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 Tajikistan and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Jakarta and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Radio Birdman to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lakeside record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Zero Boys,
Erykah Badu,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dennis Brown,
Black Moon,
Eric Copeland,
Mark Hollis,
The Motions,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Traffic Nightmare,
Theoretical Girls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joey Negro,
Nirvana,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pylon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tom Boy,
Sound Behaviour,
The Doors,
Jeff Mills,
Desert Stars,
Rapeman,
Agitation Free,
Suicide,
Eve St. Jones,
Warsaw,
Lou Christie,
Y Pants,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Amon Düül II,
Zapp,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Blossom Toes,
Kayak,
Chris Corsano,
Section 25,
Amazonics,
Visage,
Quantec,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Man Parrish,
The Fire Engines,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Flag,
Public Enemy,
Anakelly,
The Sonics,
Schoolly D,
Ornette Coleman,
Eric B and Rakim,
ABBA,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Aloha Tigers,
Gong,
Angry Samoans,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.