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 Guyana and from London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the crunk 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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All JFA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
The United States of America,
Vainqueur,
Sun City Girls,
The Buckinghams,
DJ Style,
Ponytail,
Gil Scott Heron,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Newcleus,
Faraquet,
Public Enemy,
Darondo,
Junior Murvin,
The Kinks,
Yazoo,
Royal Trux,
Japan,
Trumans Water,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Germs,
David Bowie,
B.T. Express,
Crime,
Youth Brigade,
Black Bananas,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Smog,
Janne Schatter,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Steve Hackett,
Stockholm Monsters,
Basic Channel,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Nirvana,
Television Personalities,
Vladislav Delay,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crooked Eye,
8 Eyed Spy,
Quando Quango,
Stereo Dub,
The Index,
Wings,
Magazine,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Tomorrow,
Lindisfarne,
the Soft Cell,
The Smoke,
The Dirtbombs,
Absolute Body Control,
Blossom Toes,
DNA,
Reuben Wilson,
The Fortunes,
Dave Gahan,
Marvin Gaye,
Isaac Hayes,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.