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 Croatia and from Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gun Club to the rap 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ludus 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
Swell Maps,
Franke,
Black Bananas,
Can,
Bronski Beat,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Deakin,
John Coltrane,
Stetsasonic,
Soul II Soul,
Dawn Penn,
Fad Gadget,
Popol Vuh,
Ultra Naté,
Sight & Sound,
Sandy B,
Gabor Szabo,
Robert Hood,
Rosa Yemen,
Howard Jones,
Rotary Connection,
The Sound,
The Grass Roots,
X-Ray Spex,
kango's stein massive,
Dual Sessions,
Anthony Braxton,
Kerri Chandler,
Symarip,
Bill Near,
These Immortal Souls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Harry Pussy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Yazoo,
Grauzone,
The Birthday Party,
Crime,
June of 44,
Ralphi Rosario,
Public Enemy,
Pole,
Drive Like Jehu,
Suburban Knight,
Bauhaus,
Reuben Wilson,
Moss Icon,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Altered Images,
Robert Görl,
Maleditus Sound,
Terry Callier,
Theoretical Girls,
The Happenings,
Brothers Johnson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.