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 Czech Republic and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 Kevin Saunderson to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Martian,
Moebius,
Excepter,
Bad Manners,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jandek,
D'Angelo,
Livin' Joy,
Motorama,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Little Man,
Young Marble Giants,
Colin Newman,
Malaria!,
Kurtis Blow,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dawn Penn,
Duran Duran,
Y Pants,
Mark Hollis,
The Sonics,
Arthur Verocai,
The Star Department,
Soul II Soul,
Quadrant,
Bizarre Inc.,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Deepchord,
Minor Threat,
Ice-T,
Slave,
Matthew Halsall,
Nation of Ulysses,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pantytec,
EPMD,
June of 44,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Vladislav Delay,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Faust,
Judy Mowatt,
Chrome,
Blake Baxter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marc Almond,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Heaven 17,
Popol Vuh,
Model 500,
Reagan Youth,
Mary Jane Girls,
Desert Stars,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.