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 South Africa and from Bremen.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Golliwogs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
Althea and Donna,
The J.B.'s,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
In Retrospect,
The Pretty Things,
Reuben Wilson,
Basic Channel,
Josef K,
Groovy Waters,
Radiohead,
Al Stewart,
The Slits,
John Holt,
Fatback Band,
The Offenders,
Monks,
The Divine Comedy,
Mo-Dettes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Deepchord,
Maleditus Sound,
The Neon Judgement,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Fugazi,
Tropical Tobacco,
Harry Pussy,
The Gladiators,
The Searchers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Glenn Branca,
Pagans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Knickerbockers,
Wings,
Mark Hollis,
Bobby Womack,
John Lydon,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Five Americans,
Blancmange,
Jesper Dahlback,
Darondo,
CMW,
Underground Resistance,
Animal Collective,
Junior Murvin,
Rakim,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sam Rivers,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Tremeloes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Bananas,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Foxx,
Delon & Dalcan,
Circle Jerks,
the Soft Cell,
Stetsasonic,
Sexual Harrassment,
Suburban Knight,
Minor Threat,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.