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 Papua New Guinea and from Johannesburg.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Radio Birdman to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas 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?
Black Pus,
June of 44,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Susan Cadogan,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crash Course in Science,
Tears for Fears,
Davy DMX,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Human League,
Audionom,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Moleskins,
Oblivians,
Black Flag,
Ten City,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Donald Byrd,
The Dave Clark Five,
Popol Vuh,
Alton Ellis,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Toni Rubio,
The Gun Club,
Absolute Body Control,
Sex Pistols,
Sun City Girls,
JFA,
cv313,
Dawn Penn,
Depeche Mode,
H. Thieme,
Jacob Miller,
Dorothy Ashby,
Neil Young,
Von Mondo,
Barry Ungar,
World's Most,
Nas,
Man Parrish,
Bad Manners,
Lindisfarne,
Tres Demented,
Ultra Naté,
Lucky Dragons,
Fear,
Carl Craig,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Busters,
Nick Fraelich,
Quadrant,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pylon,
Agitation Free,
Bauhaus,
Ralphi Rosario,
Byron Stingily,
Gong,
Matthew Halsall,
Bluetip,
Animal Collective,
Bang On A Can,
Lightning Bolt,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.