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 Guatemala and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Oneida to the grime 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Circle Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
48th St. Collective,
Traffic Nightmare,
Make Up,
Rosa Yemen,
Scientists,
X-Ray Spex,
Freddie Wadling,
Newcleus,
Chris Corsano,
The Doobie Brothers,
AZ,
Faraquet,
Monks,
Letta Mbulu,
Supertramp,
U.S. Maple,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Roy Ayers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Busters,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mad Mike,
Whodini,
Oblivians,
Tim Buckley,
the Swans,
Dark Day,
Pussy Galore,
Kayak,
The Real Kids,
Ultimate Spinach,
Big Daddy Kane,
This Heat,
Average White Band,
Terry Callier,
Ossler,
The Tremeloes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The J.B.'s,
Blossom Toes,
Godley & Creme,
the Sonics,
Danielle Patucci,
Suicide,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Reagan Youth,
Agitation Free,
Neu!,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Massinfluence,
In Retrospect,
Gang of Four,
Radiohead,
Oneida,
Joyce Sims,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Symarip,
Deepchord,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.