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 Austria and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bang On A Can to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Au Pairs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Suburban Knight,
X-Ray Spex,
Harry Pussy,
Peter & Gordon,
The Velvet Underground,
The Blackbyrds,
Man Parrish,
Pantytec,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gregory Isaacs,
Byron Stingily,
Interpol,
Dark Day,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sonny Sharrock,
Quadrant,
Anakelly,
ABC,
Average White Band,
Robert Görl,
Faraquet,
Isaac Hayes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Maurizio,
The Neon Judgement,
The Music Machine,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Knickerbockers,
Lyres,
Darondo,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Saccharine Trust,
Electric Prunes,
World's Most,
Brass Construction,
The Human League,
Archie Shepp,
Vladislav Delay,
Gang Gang Dance,
La Düsseldorf,
New York Dolls,
Lou Christie,
Yellowson,
Cecil Taylor,
The Moody Blues,
The Cramps,
Matthew Bourne,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Fania All-Stars,
Basic Channel,
Bronski Beat,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ohio Players,
Mantronix,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Martian,
The Trojans,
Nirvana,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.