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 Colombia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 The Flesh Eaters to the grime 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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Joe & The Fish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
The Golliwogs,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Das Ding,
The Buckinghams,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Rites of Spring,
The Divine Comedy,
The Dead C,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The United States of America,
Royal Trux,
Simply Red,
Freddie Wadling,
Sight & Sound,
Duran Duran,
Eddi Front,
Spandau Ballet,
Absolute Body Control,
Essential Logic,
Model 500,
Porter Ricks,
In Retrospect,
The Black Dice,
Section 25,
Ultra Naté,
Quando Quango,
Q65,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Womack,
Animal Collective,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mo-Dettes,
Sister Nancy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Skriet,
Cymande,
The Birthday Party,
Trumans Water,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Holt,
Alphaville,
KRS-One,
The Alarm Clocks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Inner City,
Sarah Menescal,
Judy Mowatt,
The Knickerbockers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Harpers Bizarre,
Glambeats Corp.,
Boz Scaggs,
The Sonics,
Gong,
Surgeon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Alton Ellis,
the Association,
Sound Behaviour,
Cameo,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.