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 Nicaragua and from Mexico City.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Basic Channel to the grunge 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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Audionom,
Johnny Osbourne,
OOIOO,
New York Dolls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Thompson Twins,
Lakeside,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Fuzztones,
Arcadia,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bobby Womack,
Ronnie Foster,
Y Pants,
Derrick May,
Chrome,
L. Decosne,
A Certain Ratio,
Toni Rubio,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Move,
Joey Negro,
The Beau Brummels,
Organ,
Guru Guru,
Jerry's Kids,
Steve Hackett,
The Blackbyrds,
Chris & Cosey,
The Offenders,
Lee Hazlewood,
Barrington Levy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cheater Slicks,
Altered Images,
Pere Ubu,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ken Boothe,
Black Moon,
Aaron Thompson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Animal Collective,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fela Kuti,
Fear,
Ludus,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Smoke,
Byron Stingily,
Marvin Gaye,
Piero Umiliani,
Pharoah Sanders,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sandy B,
The Music Machine,
The Martian,
Lalann,
June of 44,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.