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 Kuwait and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 kango's stein massive to the punk 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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Adolescents,
The Gories,
Bush Tetras,
The Velvet Underground,
Eden Ahbez,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ronan,
Lou Reed,
Bang On A Can,
Man Eating Sloth,
AZ,
Porter Ricks,
Ludus,
Max Romeo,
The Litter,
X-102,
Rufus Thomas,
Donald Byrd,
Mantronix,
Sonic Youth,
Moby Grape,
Underground Resistance,
The Human League,
Stetsasonic,
Urselle,
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Womack,
Yellowson,
The Star Department,
Dennis Brown,
Rosa Yemen,
Khruangbin,
Section 25,
The Seeds,
Pulsallama,
Frankie Knuckles,
Circle Jerks,
Severed Heads,
Malaria!,
Bobby Byrd,
Unwound,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Cal Tjader,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Brass Construction,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Last Poets,
Black Flag,
The Cramps,
Los Fastidios,
Liliput,
Nils Olav,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sällskapet,
Oblivians,
The Durutti Column,
The Real Kids,
Joensuu 1685,
Subhumans,
Eli Mardock,
10cc,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.