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 Lesotho and from Portland.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Blancmange to the techno 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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joyce Sims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scientists,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Residents,
Delon & Dalcan,
Minutemen,
The Victims,
The Last Poets,
Fatback Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Schoolly D,
Camouflage,
Kerri Chandler,
Pere Ubu,
Morten Harket,
The Pop Group,
Alice Coltrane,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Knickerbockers,
Ken Boothe,
Underground Resistance,
Bauhaus,
Tres Demented,
Oblivians,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Unwound,
Magma,
The Real Kids,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Radio Birdman,
The Stooges,
Blake Baxter,
Robert Wyatt,
Wings,
Silicon Teens,
Brothers Johnson,
Khruangbin,
The Black Dice,
Average White Band,
The Evens,
Donny Hathaway,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Organ,
This Heat,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Supertramp,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ten City,
Joe Smooth,
Jerry's Kids,
Ultra Naté,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Slits,
Derrick May,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Harmonia,
The Angels of Light,
Fear,
Index,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.