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 Senegal and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Monolake to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Jimmy McGriff,
John Cale,
Derrick Morgan,
John Lydon,
the Normal,
Hashim,
Agitation Free,
Stetsasonic,
Sonny Sharrock,
Trumans Water,
Josef K,
June Days,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Iggy Pop,
The Smiths,
The Cowsills,
Blake Baxter,
Amazonics,
Jawbox,
Theoretical Girls,
The Moleskins,
Scientists,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Sonics,
8 Eyed Spy,
ABC,
Eric B and Rakim,
Technova,
The Sonics,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Flag,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bobby Hutcherson,
B.T. Express,
Cecil Taylor,
The Seeds,
Swans,
DNA,
Oneida,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Section 25,
Crash Course in Science,
Swell Maps,
Crispian St. Peters,
MC5,
the Germs,
Sarah Menescal,
The Gun Club,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Youth Brigade,
Silicon Teens,
the Association,
T. Rex,
Derrick May,
Glambeats Corp.,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gang Green,
Infiniti,
Bob Dylan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gang Starr,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.