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 Lebanon and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Bremen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 clarinet 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 Ultra Naté to the techno 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lindisfarne,
The Buckinghams,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
David McCallum,
Swans,
Robert Hood,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rites of Spring,
The Motions,
Black Bananas,
Gang Starr,
Shoche,
The Dirtbombs,
Bobby Sherman,
Lungfish,
Brand Nubian,
Inner City,
Soft Machine,
Bauhaus,
Sugar Minott,
Japan,
Crash Course in Science,
Graham Central Station,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ohio Players,
Joe Finger,
Buzzcocks,
Scrapy,
Theoretical Girls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Red Krayola,
Mission of Burma,
The Moody Blues,
the Swans,
Hot Snakes,
Easy Going,
Matthew Bourne,
The Slits,
John Coltrane,
Agent Orange,
Wings,
Laurel Aitken,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Nirvana,
The Moleskins,
Monolake,
The Evens,
Donny Hathaway,
Eric B and Rakim,
Stockholm Monsters,
Absolute Body Control,
F. McDonald,
John Foxx,
Throbbing Gristle,
Henry Cow,
Minutemen,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.