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 Afghanistan and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Blossom Toes to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Litter. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boogie Down Productions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Gang of Four,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Barracudas,
The Invisible,
The Moody Blues,
Crooked Eye,
Public Enemy,
This Heat,
Byron Stingily,
The Gories,
Magma,
June Days,
The Index,
Lindisfarne,
Thee Headcoats,
JFA,
Chrome,
Sällskapet,
The Five Americans,
Al Stewart,
kango's stein massive,
The Buckinghams,
Dead Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
Ronan,
Stetsasonic,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pere Ubu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Black Bananas,
Blossom Toes,
Joe Smooth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Warsaw,
The Raincoats,
Don Cherry,
Danielle Patucci,
Pole,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Fuzztones,
Qualms,
OOIOO,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pet Shop Boys,
Kerri Chandler,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Offenders,
Hasil Adkins,
Porter Ricks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Blackbyrds,
Half Japanese,
F. McDonald,
The Fugs,
The United States of America,
The Associates,
The Smiths,
Underground Resistance,
Moby Grape,
Tears for Fears,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.