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 Venezuela and from Tehran.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Gun Club to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Con Funk Shun,
Underground Resistance,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Duran Duran,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Birthday Party,
Sonny Sharrock,
Monolake,
Jacques Brel,
Inner City,
Wolf Eyes,
Sugar Minott,
Pussy Galore,
The Tremeloes,
Howard Jones,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The J.B.'s,
Joe Smooth,
Peter & Gordon,
Lou Reed,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Offenders,
Essential Logic,
Porter Ricks,
David Bowie,
Second Layer,
Grey Daturas,
Pantaleimon,
ABBA,
Al Stewart,
Rufus Thomas,
Black Bananas,
Kool Moe Dee,
Faraquet,
The Cure,
Gastr Del Sol,
Masters at Work,
Bobbi Humphrey,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Coltrane,
Tears for Fears,
Infiniti,
Suburban Knight,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Main Source,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
China Crisis,
The Martian,
Alison Limerick,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jacob Miller,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gang Starr,
Flash Fearless,
T. Rex,
Pagans,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.