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 Italy and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Amon Düül II to the crunk 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 Doors. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Deadbeat,
Letta Mbulu,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Funky Four + One,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Evens,
Freddie Wadling,
Connie Case,
The Last Poets,
Minor Threat,
The Knickerbockers,
F. McDonald,
The Blues Magoos,
Urselle,
The Velvet Underground,
Toni Rubio,
The Residents,
Alice Coltrane,
Albert Ayler,
Neil Young,
Hardrive,
Crash Course in Science,
Leonard Cohen,
The Mummies,
Dual Sessions,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cecil Taylor,
Arthur Verocai,
Loose Ends,
Black Flag,
EPMD,
Hoover,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Monks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
New Age Steppers,
Archie Shepp,
Deepchord,
Marmalade,
Susan Cadogan,
Amazonics,
Von Mondo,
Clear Light,
Mandrill,
T.S.O.L.,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Camouflage,
Eli Mardock,
Scratch Acid,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mad Mike,
Flipper,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ronnie Foster,
Josef K,
the Human League,
Make Up,
Ohio Players,
Nirvana,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.