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 Malaysia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the disco 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 Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All the Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Joe Finger,
Nick Fraelich,
The Fuzztones,
The Cramps,
Bobby Byrd,
Circle Jerks,
The Happenings,
Ludus,
The Cowsills,
U.S. Maple,
Fluxion,
The Remains,
The Pretty Things,
Section 25,
The Wake,
World's Most,
Rapeman,
Make Up,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rosa Yemen,
Kerrie Biddell,
In Retrospect,
Urselle,
The Walker Brothers,
The Blackbyrds,
The Velvet Underground,
The Move,
The Doors,
Talk Talk,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Smiths,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lee Hazlewood,
Joey Negro,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lou Christie,
Lower 48,
Joensuu 1685,
Average White Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Ultravox,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Banda Bassotti,
Tim Buckley,
Skaos,
The Real Kids,
Pole,
Joy Division,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
This Heat,
Swell Maps,
Y Pants,
Los Fastidios,
ABBA,
Skarface,
the Association,
Mary Jane Girls,
Archie Shepp,
Scratch Acid,
Subhumans,
the Swans,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.