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 Hungary and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Hardrive 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
ABBA,
Pulsallama,
New Age Steppers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fela Kuti,
Bill Wells,
Mo-Dettes,
Little Man,
Mantronix,
Boz Scaggs,
Television Personalities,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
June Days,
T. Rex,
Flipper,
Country Teasers,
Bizarre Inc.,
8 Eyed Spy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
EPMD,
Kurtis Blow,
Scan 7,
Charles Mingus,
The Human League,
Organ,
Nation of Ulysses,
Intrusion,
Neil Young,
World's Most,
Eve St. Jones,
The Sound,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Germs,
Trumans Water,
Eric Dolphy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jawbox,
Marvin Gaye,
Pussy Galore,
the Bar-Kays,
Groovy Waters,
E-Dancer,
Schoolly D,
Grey Daturas,
Bang On A Can,
U.S. Maple,
Agitation Free,
Robert Hood,
Roy Ayers,
Funkadelic,
The Durutti Column,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Swell Maps,
Big Daddy Kane,
James White and The Blacks,
The Vogues,
Iggy Pop,
The Tremeloes,
Cheater Slicks,
DJ Style,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.