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 Afghanistan and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Count Five to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Guru Guru,
X-102,
the Slits,
Stetsasonic,
Ken Boothe,
Soul II Soul,
The Leaves,
EPMD,
Hasil Adkins,
Faust,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Vogues,
Marcia Griffiths,
Von Mondo,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Johnny Clarke,
Section 25,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Human League,
Vainqueur,
Average White Band,
Gang Starr,
Mars,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Happenings,
Joe Finger,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eden Ahbez,
PIL,
The Dead C,
The Smiths,
The Grass Roots,
Tom Boy,
Barry Ungar,
Severed Heads,
The Red Krayola,
Althea and Donna,
Quantec,
Boz Scaggs,
Reagan Youth,
Dual Sessions,
Juan Atkins,
Junior Murvin,
DNA,
Oblivians,
The Doors,
Sandy B,
Blake Baxter,
the Swans,
Tubeway Army,
L. Decosne,
Half Japanese,
Harmonia,
Animal Collective,
The Angels of Light,
Freddie Wadling,
The J.B.'s,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.