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 Denmark and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Toni Rubio to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
Mary Jane Girls,
Danielle Patucci,
Big Daddy Kane,
Royal Trux,
L. Decosne,
The Shadows of Knight,
Harry Pussy,
Scan 7,
Television Personalities,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
JFA,
Joensuu 1685,
Derrick May,
Jacob Miller,
Rakim,
Charles Mingus,
Intrusion,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ken Boothe,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cymande,
Eden Ahbez,
Sparks,
Guru Guru,
Alton Ellis,
The Dirtbombs,
Franke,
B.T. Express,
X-102,
T.S.O.L.,
Drexciya,
Deakin,
Arcadia,
Black Moon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kerri Chandler,
Aaron Thompson,
Davy DMX,
Freddie Wadling,
Gichy Dan,
Nico,
Fugazi,
The Residents,
The Cure,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Last Poets,
Banda Bassotti,
In Retrospect,
Slick Rick,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Velvet Underground,
The Pop Group,
Bobby Byrd,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fluxion,
The Music Machine,
Reuben Wilson,
T. Rex,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.