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 Ukraine and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Camouflage to the grunge 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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and a rhodes 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 arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
John Lydon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lalo Schifrin,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Womack,
Joey Negro,
Buzzcocks,
The Gories,
Yaz,
Minnie Riperton,
Oblivians,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Beau Brummels,
Sex Pistols,
Harry Pussy,
Motorama,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tomorrow,
Model 500,
Underground Resistance,
cv313,
Swell Maps,
Accadde A,
Slave,
Severed Heads,
John Foxx,
Masters at Work,
Harpers Bizarre,
X-102,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Black Sheep,
Grey Daturas,
The Mighty Diamonds,
June Days,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Divine Comedy,
The Gap Band,
X-101,
Idris Muhammad,
Q and Not U,
Gang of Four,
Ponytail,
Maleditus Sound,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pere Ubu,
Nico,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cameo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Shoche,
H. Thieme,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Au Pairs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ultravox,
New Order,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.