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 Andorra and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Erykah Badu to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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 Red Krayola,
Pussy Galore,
Crispian St. Peters,
Juan Atkins,
Kaleidoscope,
Suicide,
Ralphi Rosario,
X-102,
Von Mondo,
Josef K,
Moss Icon,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Moleskins,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Cure,
The Victims,
Brothers Johnson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Faust,
Radio Birdman,
Supertramp,
Ice-T,
Cluster,
Hardrive,
Joe Smooth,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jawbox,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Knickerbockers,
Panda Bear,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Accadde A,
Judy Mowatt,
Spoonie Gee,
Duran Duran,
Slave,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bob Dylan,
Pylon,
Shuggie Otis,
Lungfish,
The Mojo Men,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Joyce Sims,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lou Reed,
Eric Copeland,
The Monochrome Set,
Pole,
Todd Terry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Aaron Thompson,
Vladislav Delay,
the Sonics,
Fad Gadget,
a-ha,
The Vogues,
Fear,
Camouflage,
Lakeside,
Neu!,
Pet Shop Boys,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.