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 Switzerland and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the güiro 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 Thee Headcoats to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
June of 44,
Monolake,
Arab on Radar,
The United States of America,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cymande,
Rod Modell,
Organ,
Saccharine Trust,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sister Nancy,
Fugazi,
Easy Going,
Sixth Finger,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rufus Thomas,
Letta Mbulu,
The Black Dice,
Robert Hood,
the Normal,
Mark Hollis,
Donald Byrd,
Eden Ahbez,
Barry Ungar,
Josef K,
The Litter,
Swell Maps,
Silicon Teens,
Charles Mingus,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Victims,
Minor Threat,
Yazoo,
X-101,
The Young Rascals,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Toni Rubio,
Rosa Yemen,
Alton Ellis,
Lucky Dragons,
Jandek,
Bad Manners,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Grass Roots,
Black Flag,
Davy DMX,
Ultravox,
Johnny Clarke,
The Electric Prunes,
Underground Resistance,
Radiopuhelimet,
Alice Coltrane,
Aloha Tigers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Boredoms,
Soul Sonic Force,
These Immortal Souls,
Piero Umiliani,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.