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 Cameroon and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bad Manners to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echospace,
Bootsy Collins,
The Slackers,
The Sound,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Coltrane,
The Durutti Column,
Tim Buckley,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wally Richardson,
Gastr Del Sol,
Basic Channel,
Yaz,
Max Romeo,
Sugar Minott,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Groovy Waters,
the Bar-Kays,
Sam Rivers,
Index,
Pere Ubu,
Aural Exciters,
DNA,
Los Fastidios,
Marvin Gaye,
The Raincoats,
Archie Shepp,
The Saints,
Harpers Bizarre,
Masters at Work,
Joey Negro,
The Standells,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
AZ,
Technova,
Desert Stars,
Urselle,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pet Shop Boys,
Funky Four + One,
Trumans Water,
The Last Poets,
Glenn Branca,
Scrapy,
The Real Kids,
Anakelly,
Reagan Youth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Anthony Braxton,
B.T. Express,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Slave,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Soft Cell,
the Sonics,
the Normal,
Hardrive,
Television,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.