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 Czech Republic and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Barracudas to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 kango's stein massive. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boogie Down Productions,
Dorothy Ashby,
In Retrospect,
Boredoms,
Lakeside,
Maleditus Sound,
Lyres,
The Grass Roots,
Wolf Eyes,
Reuben Wilson,
Tommy Roe,
The Alarm Clocks,
Smog,
EPMD,
Matthew Halsall,
Sun Ra,
Porter Ricks,
Severed Heads,
Erasure,
T.S.O.L.,
Hoover,
Robert Görl,
Oneida,
Thee Headcoats,
Pole,
Kerri Chandler,
Desert Stars,
Silicon Teens,
The Gladiators,
Lalann,
Los Fastidios,
Sixth Finger,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Max Romeo,
The Slits,
Josef K,
Ice-T,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Blancmange,
Eli Mardock,
Steve Hackett,
Marc Almond,
Yusef Lateef,
The Stooges,
New Order,
The Names,
Albert Ayler,
Brick,
Kerrie Biddell,
Interpol,
Nas,
Rod Modell,
Delta 5,
Flamin' Groovies,
Dave Gahan,
John Lydon,
Niagra,
Shuggie Otis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ronnie Foster,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pet Shop Boys,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.