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 Chad and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 Mumbai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ossler to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Evens. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rekid,
F. McDonald,
Letta Mbulu,
Essential Logic,
Eli Mardock,
Rosa Yemen,
Archie Shepp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Radiopuhelimet,
Danielle Patucci,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Loose Ends,
Eyeless In Gaza,
David Axelrod,
Alton Ellis,
Nik Kershaw,
Nas,
Inner City,
The Fall,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roxy Music,
Fugazi,
Ultimate Spinach,
Aural Exciters,
Liliput,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Index,
The United States of America,
Curtis Mayfield,
Magma,
Marine Girls,
Joy Division,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Model 500,
Jandek,
Sandy B,
Gang of Four,
The Blues Magoos,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tom Boy,
The Cure,
Pagans,
Bad Manners,
The New Christs,
Altered Images,
Vladislav Delay,
The Walker Brothers,
Ice-T,
AZ,
Visage,
B.T. Express,
Bobby Womack,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Monks,
The Star Department,
Kas Product,
Mad Mike,
the Soft Cell,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.