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 Suriname and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Chrome to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Don Cherry,
Bang On A Can,
Big Daddy Kane,
Faraquet,
The Sound,
Porter Ricks,
the Soft Cell,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ken Boothe,
Goldenarms,
The New Christs,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Electric Prunes,
Mo-Dettes,
Qualms,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Piero Umiliani,
Magazine,
Funky Four + One,
The Selecter,
Albert Ayler,
Danielle Patucci,
D'Angelo,
Matthew Bourne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Mojo Men,
Sonic Youth,
Sun City Girls,
The Kinks,
Scientists,
Jerry's Kids,
The Divine Comedy,
Mr. Review,
Organ,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Velvet Underground,
Surgeon,
Minnie Riperton,
Warren Ellis,
The Techniques,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Trumans Water,
Guru Guru,
Joey Negro,
Erykah Badu,
Quantec,
Fela Kuti,
The Litter,
Ralphi Rosario,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Dead C,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Offenders,
The Slits,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gong,
Terrestrial Tones,
Main Source,
Brothers Johnson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.