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 Armenia and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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?
The Mummies,
The Fortunes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Todd Rundgren,
Sex Pistols,
Oneida,
Brothers Johnson,
Stockholm Monsters,
JFA,
Lucky Dragons,
Nick Fraelich,
John Cale,
Technova,
Toni Rubio,
Royal Trux,
The Mojo Men,
The New Christs,
Black Pus,
The Busters,
Terrestrial Tones,
Blake Baxter,
Babytalk,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Echospace,
Nirvana,
Deadbeat,
Public Enemy,
Lou Christie,
Rufus Thomas,
Lou Reed,
Japan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Theoretical Girls,
Jacques Brel,
Joensuu 1685,
Fluxion,
Duran Duran,
Ossler,
The Monks,
T.S.O.L.,
Vladislav Delay,
Sound Behaviour,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pussy Galore,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Whodini,
Prince Buster,
Index,
New York Dolls,
Tomorrow,
The Tremeloes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
R.M.O.,
Panda Bear,
DNA,
The Barracudas,
Boz Scaggs,
Section 25,
Sight & Sound,
Subhumans,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.