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 Cameroon and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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 Sonics,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bluetip,
Wasted Youth,
D'Angelo,
Outsiders,
The Saints,
Masters at Work,
Monolake,
the Association,
Archie Shepp,
Kayak,
Black Flag,
Ronnie Foster,
DJ Style,
Glenn Branca,
Massinfluence,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sugar Minott,
Godley & Creme,
Von Mondo,
Black Moon,
Jacob Miller,
Angry Samoans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
kango's stein massive,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Motions,
The Leaves,
Dennis Brown,
Anakelly,
The Residents,
World's Most,
Severed Heads,
Idris Muhammad,
Negative Approach,
New Order,
Moby Grape,
Dave Gahan,
Blake Baxter,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Fania All-Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Trumans Water,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Porter Ricks,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bad Manners,
Alton Ellis,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ken Boothe,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Arab on Radar,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Shoche,
the Normal,
Marc Almond,
Colin Newman,
Prince Buster,
Roxette,
Index,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.