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 Grenada and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Tom Verlaine 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 James White and The Blacks to the grime 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 KRS-One. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
Bobbi Humphrey,
KRS-One,
Scott Walker,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Stiv Bators,
Prince Buster,
Sonic Youth,
Roxy Music,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Heaven 17,
The Count Five,
Brand Nubian,
June of 44,
Jeff Lynne,
Eric Copeland,
Chrome,
The Five Americans,
Amon Düül II,
Ten City,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Radiopuhelimet,
Suburban Knight,
Depeche Mode,
Aaron Thompson,
Shuggie Otis,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Wyatt,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Byrd,
Inner City,
Excepter,
Echospace,
the Swans,
Drexciya,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Vladislav Delay,
Stockholm Monsters,
Barrington Levy,
John Cale,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sonny Sharrock,
Aural Exciters,
Jacques Brel,
the Slits,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Public Enemy,
Easy Going,
The Trojans,
The Velvet Underground,
Erasure,
Quando Quango,
The Modern Lovers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Whodini,
Man Eating Sloth,
E-Dancer,
EPMD,
Sällskapet,
Massinfluence,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.