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 Syria and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Delon & Dalcan to the dance 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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ 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 an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Robert Hood,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Slits,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joy Division,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mantronix,
Minor Threat,
Funkadelic,
Cymande,
Pulsallama,
Roxette,
Letta Mbulu,
Sugar Minott,
Lightning Bolt,
Erasure,
Sight & Sound,
The Litter,
Thee Headcoats,
Scrapy,
Gichy Dan,
Electric Prunes,
The Doobie Brothers,
MC5,
Lou Reed,
Panda Bear,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gregory Isaacs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Siglo XX,
World's Most,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bootsy Collins,
Inner City,
Alison Limerick,
Albert Ayler,
K-Klass,
Carl Craig,
Pantytec,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Soft Cell,
The Buckinghams,
Angry Samoans,
The Vogues,
Sound Behaviour,
Massinfluence,
Suburban Knight,
The Pretty Things,
Johnny Clarke,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Toasters,
Gong,
Newcleus,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.