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 Romania and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bobby Byrd to the electroclash 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Toasters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Minor Threat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bluetip,
The Martian,
Japan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Todd Rundgren,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Trumans Water,
Traffic Nightmare,
Charles Mingus,
Sun City Girls,
Slick Rick,
The Cowsills,
Soft Machine,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Suburban Knight,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Steve Hackett,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
H. Thieme,
The Mummies,
Aswad,
Little Man,
The Last Poets,
Kaleidoscope,
OOIOO,
The Doors,
Infiniti,
Rhythm & Sound,
Robert Görl,
The Durutti Column,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Five Americans,
Sandy B,
Toni Rubio,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sister Nancy,
The Gun Club,
Lucky Dragons,
The Associates,
Marc Almond,
The Buckinghams,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Divine Comedy,
Crooked Eye,
Bush Tetras,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Connie Case,
A Certain Ratio,
kango's stein massive,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kerri Chandler,
The Moleskins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Stetsasonic,
Mission of Burma,
The Star Department,
Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs.
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.