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 Austria and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the grime 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Judy Mowatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Janne Schatter,
John Lydon,
Excepter,
The Monks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Angry Samoans,
Grauzone,
Leonard Cohen,
Donny Hathaway,
Mo-Dettes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Moleskins,
Quadrant,
Tomorrow,
Babytalk,
Glenn Branca,
Lou Christie,
Eddi Front,
Warren Ellis,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Arthur Verocai,
Dead Boys,
Rhythm & Sound,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tears for Fears,
EPMD,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Byrd,
Eric B and Rakim,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Alarm Clocks,
James White and The Blacks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Harpers Bizarre,
Accadde A,
Sixth Finger,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Blossom Toes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Robert Wyatt,
Second Layer,
Wasted Youth,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ponytail,
Lyres,
Liliput,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Country Teasers,
Buzzcocks,
Young Marble Giants,
MC5,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Shuggie Otis,
The Detroit Cobras,
ABBA,
Byron Stingily,
Joyce Sims,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Remains,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.