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 Sri Lanka and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the dance 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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Schoolly D,
Bush Tetras,
Nico,
EPMD,
Piero Umiliani,
The Doors,
June Days,
Arthur Verocai,
Adolescents,
Lucky Dragons,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Curtis Mayfield,
MDC,
Matthew Halsall,
The Divine Comedy,
Anthony Braxton,
Cymande,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Sonics,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
T. Rex,
The Count Five,
Barry Ungar,
Urselle,
Todd Rundgren,
Brand Nubian,
Gabor Szabo,
David Bowie,
The Modern Lovers,
The Cure,
Gang Starr,
Average White Band,
Rod Modell,
Lungfish,
The American Breed,
Ronnie Foster,
Chris Corsano,
The Misunderstood,
Gang of Four,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Television Personalities,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Skaos,
Rites of Spring,
Zapp,
Newcleus,
Thompson Twins,
The Trojans,
MC5,
Sparks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
New Age Steppers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Durutti Column,
Ultra Naté,
Delon & Dalcan,
Arcadia,
Crash Course in Science,
Junior Murvin,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.