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 Benin and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 Normal to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Porter Ricks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Camberwell Now,
Eric Dolphy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Avey Tare,
Deadbeat,
The United States of America,
Sonic Youth,
Josef K,
The Sound,
Pere Ubu,
Minnie Riperton,
The Human League,
Darondo,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Golliwogs,
Vladislav Delay,
Sex Pistols,
The Saints,
Nico,
Soft Machine,
Judy Mowatt,
Leonard Cohen,
Liliput,
Wasted Youth,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Association,
Theoretical Girls,
Drexciya,
Harmonia,
Crooked Eye,
Hashim,
Pylon,
Chrome,
Cluster,
Lalo Schifrin,
Icehouse,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pierre Henry,
The Walker Brothers,
Gichy Dan,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Busters,
Cecil Taylor,
Eric B and Rakim,
Don Cherry,
The Litter,
Youth Brigade,
June Days,
Model 500,
Arab on Radar,
Mr. Review,
Half Japanese,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Smiths,
Average White Band,
Scratch Acid,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.