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 Kyrgyzstan and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Rakim to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Clear Light,
Con Funk Shun,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pulsallama,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
LL Cool J,
The Cowsills,
The Gladiators,
EPMD,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Doors,
Soft Cell,
Wolf Eyes,
The Dave Clark Five,
Radio Birdman,
X-101,
Gregory Isaacs,
Boz Scaggs,
The Monks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
MDC,
Organ,
Lucky Dragons,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Country Teasers,
Alton Ellis,
Wire,
Jerry's Kids,
Johnny Osbourne,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Joy Division,
Ultimate Spinach,
Minny Pops,
Jeff Lynne,
Babytalk,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Newcleus,
Joensuu 1685,
The Busters,
The Move,
Carl Craig,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Saints,
Subhumans,
The Slits,
Siglo XX,
Junior Murvin,
Lungfish,
The Martian,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Fugs,
David Bowie,
Arthur Verocai,
The Victims,
New Age Steppers,
The Star Department,
Symarip,
Vladislav Delay,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.