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 Liberia and from Bologna.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Glasgow.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Shuggie Otis to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Boredoms,
Minny Pops,
Dead Boys,
Second Layer,
The Smiths,
Chris & Cosey,
Jerry's Kids,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Arab on Radar,
The Toasters,
Aloha Tigers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ken Boothe,
FM Einheit,
Unrelated Segments,
Sam Rivers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Carl Craig,
Quadrant,
Swans,
World's Most,
Blancmange,
Nils Olav,
Heaven 17,
Alice Coltrane,
The Techniques,
Sun City Girls,
Qualms,
Bobby Sherman,
Pharoah Sanders,
Symarip,
Camouflage,
The Monochrome Set,
This Heat,
Rod Modell,
Desert Stars,
The Divine Comedy,
The Tremeloes,
K-Klass,
The Black Dice,
Tom Boy,
Fugazi,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Oneida,
The Fugs,
Darondo,
Neil Young,
Banda Bassotti,
Barrington Levy,
The Kinks,
Subhumans,
Stereo Dub,
Organ,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Chrome,
Marmalade,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.