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 Sudan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ 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 48th St. Collective to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Main Source. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Graham Central Station,
Crime,
The Gap Band,
Newcleus,
48th St. Collective,
The Busters,
Kaleidoscope,
The Sound,
Harry Pussy,
The Raincoats,
Dave Gahan,
Angry Samoans,
Carl Craig,
Hoover,
Dennis Brown,
Nas,
Scientists,
John Lydon,
the Germs,
The Offenders,
The Associates,
U.S. Maple,
Man Eating Sloth,
Wolf Eyes,
MDC,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scratch Acid,
Nation of Ulysses,
Vainqueur,
The Electric Prunes,
Chris & Cosey,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pulsallama,
10cc,
Royal Trux,
Alton Ellis,
Magazine,
The Blackbyrds,
Von Mondo,
the Sonics,
Black Bananas,
Neu!,
The Gladiators,
DJ Style,
JFA,
Kurtis Blow,
Talk Talk,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Crispian St. Peters,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Howard Jones,
Rod Modell,
Bootsy Collins,
Dead Boys,
David Axelrod,
Leonard Cohen,
Fluxion,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.