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 Namibia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 harpsichord 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 Sandy B to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Excepter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
OOIOO,
The Busters,
DNA,
Reuben Wilson,
Suicide,
Toni Rubio,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Visage,
Quantec,
Scan 7,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Smiths,
Brothers Johnson,
Franke,
Matthew Halsall,
Bob Dylan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bobby Byrd,
Amazonics,
Henry Cow,
Monks,
Malaria!,
The Velvet Underground,
Al Stewart,
Monolake,
The Slackers,
Jacques Brel,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mo-Dettes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Surgeon,
Eric Copeland,
Darondo,
The Raincoats,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Stereo Dub,
One Last Wish,
Nik Kershaw,
Sparks,
Bobby Sherman,
The Last Poets,
Motorama,
The Names,
Pylon,
The Vogues,
Whodini,
The Star Department,
Adolescents,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tropical Tobacco,
Smog,
Barry Ungar,
The Black Dice,
Moebius,
Youth Brigade,
Aaron Thompson,
Delta 5,
Japan,
Lucky Dragons,
Ken Boothe,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.