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 Marshall Islands and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Cheater Slicks to the grunge 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Surgeon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Heaven 17,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bootsy Collins,
Jandek,
U.S. Maple,
Eddi Front,
Neu!,
Newcleus,
Unwound,
Pere Ubu,
Slave,
Ten City,
Aloha Tigers,
Marvin Gaye,
Kerri Chandler,
Grauzone,
the Association,
Rakim,
Erykah Badu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scan 7,
These Immortal Souls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Little Man,
Bobby Hutcherson,
D'Angelo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Hardrive,
Freddie Wadling,
The Selecter,
Don Cherry,
Letta Mbulu,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Monks,
Derrick May,
The Litter,
Organ,
the Human League,
Franke,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scion,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Brick,
Mark Hollis,
Niagra,
Spoonie Gee,
Black Pus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Knickerbockers,
Quantec,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Last Poets,
Man Eating Sloth,
Minutemen,
Alton Ellis,
Severed Heads,
The Busters,
Soul II Soul,
The Angels of Light,
Whodini,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.