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 Suriname and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Paris.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Selecter to the crunk 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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pierre Henry,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Chris Corsano,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Second Layer,
Mantronix,
the Normal,
The Durutti Column,
U.S. Maple,
Fad Gadget,
E-Dancer,
David Bowie,
The Real Kids,
The Slackers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Blake Baxter,
Mr. Review,
Marmalade,
Amon Düül II,
Throbbing Gristle,
Goldenarms,
Tim Buckley,
CMW,
Sun Ra,
Monolake,
Carl Craig,
Andrew Hill,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Divine Comedy,
The Blues Magoos,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Roger Hodgson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fatback Band,
the Swans,
Gil Scott Heron,
Severed Heads,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ohio Players,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Guru Guru,
Make Up,
La Düsseldorf,
In Retrospect,
Thee Headcoats,
Can,
Mark Hollis,
Flash Fearless,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jimmy McGriff,
Crime,
The Skatalites,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Skriet,
Albert Ayler,
Peter & Gordon,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.