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 Zimbabwe and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Michael McDonald 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 Five Americans to the jazz 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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Scan 7 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Kerri Chandler,
Main Source,
Laurel Aitken,
Kenny Larkin,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
the Human League,
ABC,
Robert Hood,
Yusef Lateef,
Brand Nubian,
Black Sheep,
Harry Pussy,
Outsiders,
Donald Byrd,
Lebanon Hanover,
Chris & Cosey,
Essential Logic,
E-Dancer,
X-102,
The Pretty Things,
The Music Machine,
Brick,
Faust,
Black Moon,
Angry Samoans,
In Retrospect,
Masters at Work,
The Slits,
Janne Schatter,
Tres Demented,
David McCallum,
Jerry's Kids,
Big Daddy Kane,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jeff Mills,
Bauhaus,
CMW,
Magma,
Scratch Acid,
Quando Quango,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Barrington Levy,
Terry Callier,
New York Dolls,
Eric Copeland,
R.M.O.,
The Raincoats,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sonny Sharrock,
Intrusion,
MC5,
Jawbox,
Malaria!,
Buzzcocks,
Inner City,
Neil Young,
The Mojo Men,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.