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 Slovenia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 Banda Bassotti to the rap 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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joy Division record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Matthew Bourne,
Goldenarms,
Curtis Mayfield,
World's Most,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joe Finger,
Average White Band,
Scion,
Colin Newman,
The Fortunes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Todd Terry,
The Invisible,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Flamin' Groovies,
Urselle,
Interpol,
The Music Machine,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marine Girls,
Sällskapet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Slick Rick,
Piero Umiliani,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bang On A Can,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
James White and The Blacks,
The Buckinghams,
Tommy Roe,
This Heat,
Skaos,
Angry Samoans,
Theoretical Girls,
Black Flag,
Joyce Sims,
Cymande,
Electric Prunes,
Maurizio,
Gang Gang Dance,
Buzzcocks,
cv313,
Minny Pops,
Robert Görl,
Aswad,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Toasters,
Negative Approach,
The United States of America,
Tubeway Army,
Drexciya,
Echospace,
Jesper Dahlback,
Y Pants,
Siglo XX,
Crime,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.