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 Mauritius and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Newcleus to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marshall Jefferson,
The Residents,
Aloha Tigers,
Icehouse,
Rekid,
Prince Buster,
New Order,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Cale,
Pantytec,
Boz Scaggs,
Quando Quango,
Harry Pussy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Archie Shepp,
Robert Görl,
Laurel Aitken,
Accadde A,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Liliput,
Barry Ungar,
Leonard Cohen,
Steve Hackett,
Wings,
Faust,
Unwound,
Talk Talk,
Sparks,
Harmonia,
Ultra Naté,
The Doors,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Suicide,
Wally Richardson,
Soft Cell,
Gang Starr,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Basic Channel,
Charles Mingus,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crash Course in Science,
Gong,
Unrelated Segments,
Bizarre Inc.,
Intrusion,
Black Moon,
Soulsonic Force,
Pole,
Carl Craig,
Byron Stingily,
Letta Mbulu,
The Seeds,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Country Teasers,
X-Ray Spex,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Eric Dolphy,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.