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 Laos and from Johannesburg.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 ABC to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Scott Walker,
Moby Grape,
X-Ray Spex,
The Durutti Column,
The Fuzztones,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Y Pants,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Smoke,
Barry Ungar,
The Evens,
Joensuu 1685,
Amon Düül II,
Black Pus,
Bill Near,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Monochrome Set,
World's Most,
Aural Exciters,
Mad Mike,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fear,
Radio Birdman,
Eddi Front,
Minor Threat,
Ice-T,
Public Image Ltd.,
Quando Quango,
L. Decosne,
Tubeway Army,
Hoover,
Absolute Body Control,
Davy DMX,
The Dead C,
MC5,
Motorama,
Kas Product,
The Gladiators,
John Cale,
Black Bananas,
Soulsonic Force,
Agitation Free,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
FM Einheit,
Qualms,
The Standells,
Mr. Review,
Procol Harum,
Andrew Hill,
The Blues Magoos,
Yazoo,
The Divine Comedy,
Average White Band,
Wolf Eyes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Drive Like Jehu,
Animal Collective,
Joy Division,
Pet Shop Boys,
Dawn Penn,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.