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 Zimbabwe and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 marimba 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 The Move to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Aloha Tigers,
Public Enemy,
Ituana,
Tom Boy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rekid,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
D'Angelo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cybotron,
Model 500,
Wally Richardson,
Kaleidoscope,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Heaven 17,
Rapeman,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Byron Stingily,
Interpol,
Zapp,
DJ Sneak,
Robert Hood,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Christie,
Dave Gahan,
The Real Kids,
The Cure,
Lower 48,
Todd Rundgren,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Symarip,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Count Five,
Depeche Mode,
Black Bananas,
Mandrill,
the Normal,
Ice-T,
The Pop Group,
The Music Machine,
Trumans Water,
John Holt,
Arab on Radar,
The Five Americans,
Lalann,
Infiniti,
The Wake,
Television,
The Happenings,
Reuben Wilson,
Guru Guru,
Dark Day,
The Birthday Party,
Sonic Youth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marc Almond,
Terry Callier,
Nick Fraelich,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.