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 Panama and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Happenings 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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wally Richardson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Whodini,
La Düsseldorf,
Aswad,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Sonics,
The Knickerbockers,
DNA,
Monks,
Spandau Ballet,
Supertramp,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Thee Headcoats,
Vainqueur,
The Gun Club,
Das Ding,
48th St. Collective,
Barrington Levy,
Smog,
The Young Rascals,
Yaz,
Eurythmics,
The Angels of Light,
Radiopuhelimet,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Inner City,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Susan Cadogan,
Gong,
Tomorrow,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eve St. Jones,
Harry Pussy,
Scott Walker,
The Litter,
Accadde A,
Unrelated Segments,
Bang On A Can,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Radio Birdman,
Technova,
10cc,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Symarip,
Bluetip,
Blancmange,
CMW,
The Alarm Clocks,
Index,
Audionom,
Pantaleimon,
Eric B and Rakim,
Masters at Work,
Mark Hollis,
David Bowie,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wasted Youth,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Archie Shepp,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.