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 Yemen and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the organ 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Subhumans,
Main Source,
Curtis Mayfield,
Minnie Riperton,
Saccharine Trust,
Zero Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kool Moe Dee,
Crash Course in Science,
Technova,
Bobby Sherman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
In Retrospect,
Barclay James Harvest,
Buzzcocks,
Black Bananas,
Franke,
Jerry's Kids,
Yaz,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pagans,
New Order,
Porter Ricks,
Barrington Levy,
Michelle Simonal,
Public Enemy,
These Immortal Souls,
Grey Daturas,
The Gun Club,
Charles Mingus,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Excepter,
Stockholm Monsters,
Los Fastidios,
John Cale,
Laurel Aitken,
D'Angelo,
Nils Olav,
Rod Modell,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eli Mardock,
Ornette Coleman,
Little Man,
The Slits,
Easy Going,
ABBA,
The Beau Brummels,
Cheater Slicks,
Country Teasers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bob Dylan,
Al Stewart,
Minor Threat,
The Modern Lovers,
Magazine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scrapy,
The Count Five,
Kurtis Blow,
Johnny Clarke,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Con Funk Shun,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.