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 Uruguay and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Last Poets to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Au Pairs. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Nick Fraelich,
Radiohead,
Angry Samoans,
Ralphi Rosario,
Harry Pussy,
Pulsallama,
Don Cherry,
Surgeon,
The Cure,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pylon,
Amon Düül,
Pierre Henry,
The Trojans,
China Crisis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Amon Düül II,
Malaria!,
Max Romeo,
Eurythmics,
Morten Harket,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Zeros,
Freddie Wadling,
Brand Nubian,
Rakim,
the Slits,
Porter Ricks,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Raincoats,
Avey Tare,
The Toasters,
Patti Smith,
Aswad,
Jawbox,
The Buckinghams,
The Mojo Men,
Brick,
Magazine,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scientists,
New York Dolls,
Oblivians,
Q65,
Wolf Eyes,
The Mummies,
The Neon Judgement,
Make Up,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cramps,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Loose Ends,
Motorama,
Joensuu 1685,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Anthony Braxton,
Wings,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.