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 Indonesia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Wasted Youth to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cymande,
Joensuu 1685,
Howard Jones,
Lightning Bolt,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Vogues,
The New Christs,
The Black Dice,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Leaves,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Pus,
Royal Trux,
Matthew Bourne,
Derrick Morgan,
Gang of Four,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Susan Cadogan,
Flash Fearless,
Section 25,
The Wake,
The Five Americans,
Chrome,
Eric Copeland,
Mo-Dettes,
John Holt,
X-102,
Tomorrow,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Dead Boys,
Lindisfarne,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bootsy Collins,
Main Source,
Alice Coltrane,
Tim Buckley,
Johnny Clarke,
Babytalk,
Urselle,
Malaria!,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eve St. Jones,
World's Most,
Arthur Verocai,
LL Cool J,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
a-ha,
D'Angelo,
The Kinks,
Tres Demented,
T.S.O.L.,
Arcadia,
Crime,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
X-Ray Spex,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ten City,
David Axelrod,
Loose Ends,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.