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 Sudan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the sitar 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 Deepchord to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
Hasil Adkins,
Monolake,
Charles Mingus,
Eve St. Jones,
Brick,
Young Marble Giants,
The Fire Engines,
Lou Christie,
Country Teasers,
New York Dolls,
Gichy Dan,
Carl Craig,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Blancmange,
Peter & Gordon,
Gang of Four,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lalann,
Eric Copeland,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Soft Cell,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bobby Sherman,
Adolescents,
This Heat,
Robert Hood,
Joensuu 1685,
Hardrive,
Sällskapet,
Judy Mowatt,
David Axelrod,
Gabor Szabo,
Symarip,
UT,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cybotron,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Traffic Nightmare,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Crispy Ambulance,
Byron Stingily,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rakim,
The Invisible,
Black Bananas,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
China Crisis,
The Motions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
World's Most,
The Seeds,
Brand Nubian,
Grey Daturas,
The Black Dice,
The Music Machine,
The Gories,
Kool Moe Dee,
Minny Pops,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.