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 Rwanda and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Procol Harum to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
The American Breed,
Throbbing Gristle,
Flamin' Groovies,
Spandau Ballet,
Inner City,
Roy Ayers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Althea and Donna,
Motorama,
Neil Young,
Joensuu 1685,
Rakim,
Swell Maps,
Chris Corsano,
Gong,
X-101,
EPMD,
JFA,
Sun City Girls,
Gabor Szabo,
Freddie Wadling,
Mantronix,
Loose Ends,
Alison Limerick,
Fluxion,
David Bowie,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dennis Brown,
Bill Near,
The Fire Engines,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Suicide,
the Slits,
The Monochrome Set,
Barry Ungar,
The Gladiators,
Absolute Body Control,
Harry Pussy,
Alice Coltrane,
These Immortal Souls,
The Pretty Things,
Chris & Cosey,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Gun Club,
Aural Exciters,
The Young Rascals,
Lucky Dragons,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Smoke,
Flash Fearless,
Crash Course in Science,
Vladislav Delay,
Bob Dylan,
Skaos,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nas,
Maleditus Sound,
The Litter,
Ken Boothe,
Black Pus,
Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja, Jeru the Damaja.
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.