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 Uruguay and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 808 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
DJ Style,
The Smiths,
The Barracudas,
Eve St. Jones,
The Knickerbockers,
Underground Resistance,
Lalo Schifrin,
cv313,
Malaria!,
Joyce Sims,
Lou Reed,
Lucky Dragons,
Todd Terry,
Crispian St. Peters,
Country Teasers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Whodini,
Bauhaus,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Harmonia,
James White and The Blacks,
AZ,
Rekid,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
This Heat,
Radiohead,
Pierre Henry,
Gabor Szabo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
John Foxx,
Susan Cadogan,
Circle Jerks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
X-102,
Anthony Braxton,
Bush Tetras,
Smog,
Archie Shepp,
D'Angelo,
Ultravox,
Sun City Girls,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marc Almond,
Sound Behaviour,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
DNA,
Delon & Dalcan,
Warren Ellis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Livin' Joy,
Johnny Clarke,
Hashim,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
New Order,
The Toasters,
Symarip,
Q and Not U,
Monolake,
Oblivians,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.