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 Libya and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 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 John Lydon to the grime 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp 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?
Pulsallama,
Deakin,
Arcadia,
Essential Logic,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Human League,
Can,
Joe Finger,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Red Krayola,
Sex Pistols,
MDC,
Todd Rundgren,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Dead C,
Robert Hood,
Tomorrow,
L. Decosne,
Thompson Twins,
The Saints,
Porter Ricks,
Henry Cow,
Bobby Womack,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Albert Ayler,
Fluxion,
Freddie Wadling,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
New York Dolls,
Black Moon,
Quadrant,
MC5,
a-ha,
Nick Fraelich,
The Fuzztones,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ronan,
Lyres,
Nation of Ulysses,
Excepter,
The Count Five,
Sun Ra,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sällskapet,
Monks,
Los Fastidios,
Marmalade,
Boredoms,
Shuggie Otis,
Animal Collective,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pierre Henry,
Kurtis Blow,
Agent Orange,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Magma,
The Alarm Clocks,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.