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 Barbados and from Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Slick Rick to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
The Residents,
Mark Hollis,
KRS-One,
Sandy B,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Yazoo,
Prince Buster,
The Red Krayola,
Mission of Burma,
Carl Craig,
The Slits,
The Misunderstood,
The Cramps,
Angry Samoans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tom Boy,
Parry Music,
Sonic Youth,
The Monks,
Franke,
T. Rex,
Unwound,
John Lydon,
Outsiders,
Barrington Levy,
Camouflage,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Matthew Halsall,
Alphaville,
the Slits,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Gun Club,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Iggy Pop,
Barry Ungar,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fluxion,
Pantytec,
Sunsets and Hearts,
AZ,
Wolf Eyes,
The Martian,
Can,
EPMD,
Bad Manners,
Darondo,
Niagra,
The New Christs,
Lightning Bolt,
Mr. Review,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Amon Düül II,
Gil Scott Heron,
Public Image Ltd.,
Warren Ellis,
Hot Snakes,
Soulsonic Force,
Eddi Front,
Hoover,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.