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 Italy and from Mumbai.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manila.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sex Pistols to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Standells. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hasil Adkins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mark Hollis,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Pole,
Funkadelic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Henry Cow,
Letta Mbulu,
Massinfluence,
Zapp,
Sixth Finger,
The Moody Blues,
John Cale,
Eddi Front,
The Names,
Prince Buster,
The Mummies,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Moss Icon,
Pere Ubu,
Andrew Hill,
Roy Ayers,
The Saints,
Sister Nancy,
Al Stewart,
Iggy Pop,
Yusef Lateef,
Subhumans,
June Days,
Sex Pistols,
Magma,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mantronix,
E-Dancer,
Joyce Sims,
The Knickerbockers,
The Walker Brothers,
Angry Samoans,
Skarface,
Toni Rubio,
Black Pus,
Outsiders,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Freddie Wadling,
Cymande,
Don Cherry,
Black Moon,
Bizarre Inc.,
Audionom,
Cheater Slicks,
Boredoms,
Archie Shepp,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Sonics,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Offenders,
La Düsseldorf,
The Smoke,
The Doors,
The Count Five,
David Bowie,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.