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 Panama and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the 808 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 Bill Wells to the funk 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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Symarip,
The Saints,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
the Normal,
MDC,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Con Funk Shun,
ABBA,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jesper Dahlback,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jandek,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mad Mike,
Newcleus,
James White and The Blacks,
Sparks,
Royal Trux,
Section 25,
Niagra,
John Cale,
The Standells,
Underground Resistance,
Boredoms,
Andrew Hill,
Althea and Donna,
Rosa Yemen,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Leonard Cohen,
Barry Ungar,
Unwound,
Sandy B,
Morten Harket,
Half Japanese,
Zero Boys,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Coltrane,
Jimmy McGriff,
Deadbeat,
Sam Rivers,
The Blues Magoos,
Kenny Larkin,
Sun City Girls,
Hoover,
The Toasters,
La Düsseldorf,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Eli Mardock,
The Gun Club,
Colin Newman,
Nik Kershaw,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Urselle,
Depeche Mode,
The Residents,
Wolf Eyes,
Tom Boy,
MC5,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Los Fastidios,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.