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 South Africa and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Warsaw to the crunk 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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Crime,
June Days,
Royal Trux,
Excepter,
X-Ray Spex,
Brand Nubian,
The Techniques,
Ice-T,
The Young Rascals,
Severed Heads,
Moby Grape,
Cymande,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Interpol,
MDC,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Remains,
The Cowsills,
Q and Not U,
CMW,
Lightning Bolt,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Carl Craig,
The Angels of Light,
Sixth Finger,
Sonny Sharrock,
Boz Scaggs,
Oneida,
Derrick Morgan,
Funkadelic,
Juan Atkins,
The Litter,
Sister Nancy,
Susan Cadogan,
F. McDonald,
Throbbing Gristle,
Derrick May,
Yaz,
These Immortal Souls,
The Buckinghams,
Nas,
Rapeman,
Blossom Toes,
Bill Wells,
Sugar Minott,
the Normal,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tres Demented,
The Star Department,
The Selecter,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ohio Players,
Jeff Mills,
Pylon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Youth Brigade,
Drive Like Jehu,
Roxette,
Pierre Henry,
Kool Moe Dee,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
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.