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 Tonga and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Philadelphia.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Angels of Light to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Aural Exciters,
Man Parrish,
Whodini,
Smog,
Rapeman,
Essential Logic,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Music Machine,
Joy Division,
Lower 48,
Amazonics,
ABC,
Yazoo,
The Index,
Barclay James Harvest,
Joey Negro,
David Axelrod,
Alton Ellis,
Stetsasonic,
Yellowson,
Warsaw,
Glambeats Corp.,
Desert Stars,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Maleditus Sound,
Jacques Brel,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brick,
Khruangbin,
Joensuu 1685,
Cameo,
Glenn Branca,
The Wake,
Popol Vuh,
John Holt,
Fear,
Lightning Bolt,
Gang of Four,
Visage,
Liliput,
Sarah Menescal,
Crash Course in Science,
The Kinks,
Goldenarms,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Saccharine Trust,
L. Decosne,
Radio Birdman,
Flipper,
Eric B and Rakim,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Symarip,
Silicon Teens,
Tres Demented,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sexual Harrassment,
Thee Headcoats,
Crispy Ambulance,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.