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 Vietnam and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
Motorama,
Saccharine Trust,
Curtis Mayfield,
Scan 7,
Byron Stingily,
Trumans Water,
New York Dolls,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Misunderstood,
The Moleskins,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pantytec,
UT,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Frankie Knuckles,
Graham Central Station,
Echospace,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rekid,
Rod Modell,
Yusef Lateef,
Monks,
Skarface,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Mummies,
Circle Jerks,
X-Ray Spex,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bluetip,
ABC,
Maleditus Sound,
The Golliwogs,
Public Enemy,
Babytalk,
Television,
These Immortal Souls,
DJ Style,
The Five Americans,
R.M.O.,
Magma,
Vladislav Delay,
Howard Jones,
Eurythmics,
Junior Murvin,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bill Near,
Mo-Dettes,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Coltrane,
FM Einheit,
Gang Starr,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rufus Thomas,
Jacob Miller,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Sonics,
The Fall,
Swans,
Gong,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.