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 Uganda and from Salvador.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 spring reverb 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 Crash Course in Science to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter and Kerry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Ludus,
The Angels of Light,
The Real Kids,
Alison Limerick,
Youth Brigade,
Ronnie Foster,
Bush Tetras,
Easy Going,
The Fortunes,
Colin Newman,
Technova,
The Fire Engines,
Wings,
Simply Red,
Barbara Tucker,
David Bowie,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Davy DMX,
Brand Nubian,
Lalann,
Idris Muhammad,
Marmalade,
Donny Hathaway,
Swell Maps,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Vladislav Delay,
Jesper Dahlback,
Blake Baxter,
Grauzone,
Smog,
Chrome,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sex Pistols,
Warsaw,
Babytalk,
Bad Manners,
Chris & Cosey,
The Fall,
F. McDonald,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sonny Sharrock,
Maleditus Sound,
Radiohead,
Rakim,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Wasted Youth,
In Retrospect,
Groovy Waters,
Livin' Joy,
Althea and Donna,
Grey Daturas,
A Certain Ratio,
The Wake,
8 Eyed Spy,
Buzzcocks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fela Kuti,
Mantronix,
Magazine,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.