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 Bahamas and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Mojo Men to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cybotron,
Don Cherry,
Banda Bassotti,
Depeche Mode,
the Bar-Kays,
Amon Düül II,
Main Source,
One Last Wish,
the Slits,
Howard Jones,
The Raincoats,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Al Stewart,
Peter & Gordon,
The Busters,
Absolute Body Control,
Aloha Tigers,
Heaven 17,
Juan Atkins,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Monks,
Electric Prunes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cecil Taylor,
48th St. Collective,
Nick Fraelich,
Harry Pussy,
Sixth Finger,
Brass Construction,
Gang Green,
The Slits,
Eve St. Jones,
John Foxx,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Wings,
The Red Krayola,
The Techniques,
June Days,
Dorothy Ashby,
OOIOO,
Steve Hackett,
This Heat,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Aural Exciters,
The Smiths,
Can,
Yusef Lateef,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lyres,
Stockholm Monsters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rekid,
B.T. Express,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bobby Sherman,
Eurythmics,
Tommy Roe,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.