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 Toronto.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mexico City.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ossler to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Fatback Band,
Althea and Donna,
Jeru the Damaja,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Alton Ellis,
Roger Hodgson,
Kerrie Biddell,
F. McDonald,
the Slits,
The Trojans,
Prince Buster,
Half Japanese,
Johnny Clarke,
Scan 7,
Nik Kershaw,
Agitation Free,
Cecil Taylor,
The Durutti Column,
Au Pairs,
Pylon,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pierre Henry,
Yellowson,
Bill Wells,
Bootsy Collins,
Urselle,
Barbara Tucker,
Radio Birdman,
Freddie Wadling,
Boredoms,
Outsiders,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gichy Dan,
OOIOO,
Andrew Hill,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Cramps,
James White and The Blacks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Funky Four + One,
Wally Richardson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Moby Grape,
Max Romeo,
X-Ray Spex,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Joe Smooth,
Reagan Youth,
Yazoo,
Swans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Selecter,
the Association,
John Cale,
Cheater Slicks,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.