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 Ghana and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba 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 Interpol to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Janne Schatter. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Mr. Review,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gang Gang Dance,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Intrusion,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Yaz,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
D'Angelo,
Carl Craig,
Essential Logic,
Surgeon,
8 Eyed Spy,
Prince Buster,
Metal Thangz,
Jimmy McGriff,
Todd Rundgren,
Dorothy Ashby,
Symarip,
Pharoah Sanders,
Amon Düül II,
Skarface,
Sexual Harrassment,
Hashim,
Harmonia,
The Electric Prunes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Matthew Halsall,
Severed Heads,
The Move,
Cybotron,
Accadde A,
Rapeman,
The Black Dice,
Boredoms,
F. McDonald,
U.S. Maple,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Siglo XX,
Roger Hodgson,
Q and Not U,
KRS-One,
Lalann,
Aloha Tigers,
Gichy Dan,
Blancmange,
Young Marble Giants,
Oneida,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Depeche Mode,
Terrestrial Tones,
Supertramp,
Marvin Gaye,
The Saints,
Swell Maps,
Masters at Work,
Nils Olav,
Silicon Teens,
Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc..
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.