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 Solomon Islands and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 James White and The Blacks to the techno 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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Qualms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
The Victims,
Faust,
Surgeon,
Moss Icon,
Iggy Pop,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marc Almond,
Leonard Cohen,
The Count Five,
Joensuu 1685,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dead Boys,
Soulsonic Force,
Jerry's Kids,
The Blues Magoos,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare,
Barclay James Harvest,
Johnny Clarke,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kayak,
PIL,
Stereo Dub,
Scion,
Mad Mike,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Camouflage,
The Cowsills,
Malaria!,
Gang Starr,
Nation of Ulysses,
Cluster,
Sex Pistols,
Infiniti,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Slackers,
Ossler,
Blancmange,
Rakim,
The Last Poets,
Scientists,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Gladiators,
Das Ding,
The Zeros,
Dark Day,
Gang Green,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Gap Band,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Intrusion,
Ornette Coleman,
Fat Boys,
Al Stewart,
Dennis Brown,
The Index,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Fania All-Stars,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.