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 Thailand and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Black Pus to the techno 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
K-Klass,
Crime,
Dead Boys,
Scan 7,
Subhumans,
Sly & The Family Stone,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rotary Connection,
Pagans,
Ossler,
Dorothy Ashby,
Leonard Cohen,
Joe Finger,
Loose Ends,
Matthew Bourne,
Brand Nubian,
The Beau Brummels,
Nico,
Neil Young,
Banda Bassotti,
The Mummies,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Toasters,
Main Source,
The Techniques,
Supertramp,
Pulsallama,
Buzzcocks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Public Enemy,
Idris Muhammad,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Donny Hathaway,
Intrusion,
Icehouse,
Fatback Band,
Alton Ellis,
Mr. Review,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lucky Dragons,
Sight & Sound,
The Music Machine,
Niagra,
Television Personalities,
Camberwell Now,
Girls At Our Best!,
Brothers Johnson,
Eli Mardock,
Masters at Work,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rites of Spring,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fluxion,
Don Cherry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mars,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Martian,
The Five Americans,
Ronnie Foster,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.