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 United Kingdom and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Erykah Badu to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Yazoo,
Deakin,
The United States of America,
Circle Jerks,
The Music Machine,
Jesper Dahlback,
Scientists,
Panda Bear,
The Barracudas,
X-Ray Spex,
Scott Walker,
Pole,
The Remains,
Dorothy Ashby,
Electric Prunes,
Susan Cadogan,
Todd Terry,
Pulsallama,
Barbara Tucker,
H. Thieme,
Fela Kuti,
Piero Umiliani,
The Cure,
Tears for Fears,
Jeff Lynne,
Anthony Braxton,
Gang Starr,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Clear Light,
Jawbox,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Maleditus Sound,
Accadde A,
Black Sheep,
Al Stewart,
Saccharine Trust,
Smog,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Guru Guru,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pantaleimon,
Bush Tetras,
Kurtis Blow,
Severed Heads,
Von Mondo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Red Krayola,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Brand Nubian,
Ludus,
Harry Pussy,
Albert Ayler,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lightning Bolt,
Malaria!,
Make Up,
Soul II Soul,
The Durutti Column,
Jacques Brel,
Minor Threat,
Colin Newman,
Lalann,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.