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 Sierra Leone and from Stockholm.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 snare 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 Fat Boys to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stereo Dub record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
UT,
Arthur Verocai,
Mandrill,
Maurizio,
Fugazi,
The Mojo Men,
Cheater Slicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Slits,
John Cale,
MDC,
Ice-T,
Nas,
Y Pants,
Lou Christie,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Gladiators,
The Fuzztones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Gun Club,
Lungfish,
Delta 5,
The Alarm Clocks,
Camberwell Now,
The Stooges,
Siglo XX,
Public Image Ltd.,
Banda Bassotti,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Misunderstood,
Sällskapet,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Birthday Party,
Bill Near,
Alice Coltrane,
KRS-One,
Marcia Griffiths,
Darondo,
Johnny Clarke,
Boz Scaggs,
Archie Shepp,
Faraquet,
cv313,
This Heat,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Brothers Johnson,
Marc Almond,
Soft Cell,
Faust,
The Black Dice,
Moby Grape,
Sam Rivers,
Amazonics,
Anakelly,
Gang Gang Dance,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.