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 El Salvador and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 Letta Mbulu to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The American Breed,
Monks,
Radio Birdman,
Nik Kershaw,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Porter Ricks,
Sex Pistols,
Los Fastidios,
Man Eating Sloth,
Brick,
Bush Tetras,
Shoche,
Sound Behaviour,
Ludus,
Arcadia,
The Red Krayola,
Black Sheep,
EPMD,
The Seeds,
Pagans,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cymande,
These Immortal Souls,
Yaz,
Barclay James Harvest,
Visage,
Hasil Adkins,
Simply Red,
John Holt,
Hoover,
Trumans Water,
Public Enemy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Standells,
Throbbing Gristle,
Quantec,
Newcleus,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Yusef Lateef,
Zero Boys,
Dawn Penn,
The Star Department,
Marc Almond,
Franke,
Chris Corsano,
Eric Dolphy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Roxy Music,
Gastr Del Sol,
Graham Central Station,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Swans,
Lindisfarne,
Kevin Saunderson,
Das Ding,
Basic Channel,
Grauzone,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.