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 Uzbekistan and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Winnipeg.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cosmic Jokers to the dance 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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Amon Düül,
Glenn Branca,
These Immortal Souls,
Laurel Aitken,
Electric Light Orchestra,
World's Most,
Gang Green,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eurythmics,
Kayak,
The Fall,
The Shadows of Knight,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kerrie Biddell,
Boredoms,
Gang Gang Dance,
D'Angelo,
Rapeman,
Suburban Knight,
Archie Shepp,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Whodini,
The Fuzztones,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Last Poets,
Sun Ra,
John Holt,
DJ Sneak,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lou Christie,
Wings,
Connie Case,
Niagra,
Bobby Byrd,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lindisfarne,
Eric Copeland,
Nico,
The Mummies,
Leonard Cohen,
Dave Gahan,
Mandrill,
Radio Birdman,
John Lydon,
Black Sheep,
Dual Sessions,
Supertramp,
Soft Cell,
Babytalk,
The Real Kids,
Basic Channel,
AZ,
Parry Music,
The Blues Magoos,
The Tremeloes,
Eddi Front,
The Fortunes,
The New Christs,
Flipper,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hashim,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.