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 Australia and from Toronto.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the snare 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
James White and The Blacks,
T. Rex,
Yaz,
Nas,
Surgeon,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Duran Duran,
David Axelrod,
Traffic Nightmare,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jacob Miller,
Iggy Pop,
Sound Behaviour,
Arab on Radar,
The Music Machine,
Lee Hazlewood,
Essential Logic,
Index,
KRS-One,
Mark Hollis,
Thee Headcoats,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Blues Magoos,
Flipper,
Glambeats Corp.,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Alphaville,
Inner City,
Franke,
The Evens,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cymande,
Suicide,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Slave,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Tommy Roe,
Dead Boys,
Pylon,
the Swans,
Peter & Gordon,
Von Mondo,
Shoche,
The Tremeloes,
Mr. Review,
Yazoo,
X-102,
Man Parrish,
Barry Ungar,
Pere Ubu,
Henry Cow,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Sonics,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eric Copeland,
Niagra,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Red Krayola,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.