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 South Africa and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Barrington Levy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Banda Bassotti,
the Sonics,
Mary Jane Girls,
Unwound,
Black Bananas,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bang On A Can,
Charles Mingus,
Tres Demented,
Andrew Hill,
Audionom,
Rekid,
Kevin Saunderson,
Whodini,
Matthew Bourne,
Marine Girls,
Lightning Bolt,
Grauzone,
The Fire Engines,
The Human League,
The Residents,
Porter Ricks,
Bauhaus,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lower 48,
This Heat,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dorothy Ashby,
LL Cool J,
Jerry's Kids,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Massinfluence,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gang Gang Dance,
Masters at Work,
Silicon Teens,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rotary Connection,
The Raincoats,
Suburban Knight,
Yaz,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
MC5,
The Grass Roots,
Erasure,
JFA,
John Cale,
Scan 7,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Angry Samoans,
Hot Snakes,
The Dirtbombs,
Funky Four + One,
The Five Americans,
Tom Boy,
Dennis Brown,
Inner City,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sarah Menescal,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.