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 Uzbekistan and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 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 Radio Birdman to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Peter & Gordon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Robert Wyatt,
Amon Düül,
Angry Samoans,
The Toasters,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bluetip,
Desert Stars,
Camouflage,
Alton Ellis,
Y Pants,
Cheater Slicks,
The J.B.'s,
Yazoo,
Royal Trux,
Morten Harket,
Panda Bear,
Heaven 17,
Excepter,
Deakin,
Deepchord,
DJ Style,
The Detroit Cobras,
Oneida,
Los Fastidios,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Red Krayola,
Eve St. Jones,
The Residents,
The Velvet Underground,
E-Dancer,
Danielle Patucci,
The Young Rascals,
Gichy Dan,
Ludus,
The Tremeloes,
John Lydon,
The Index,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nik Kershaw,
Peter & Gordon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bobby Byrd,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Amazonics,
The Buckinghams,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Reuben Wilson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Sound,
Stereo Dub,
Boogie Down Productions,
Organ,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Groovy Waters,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Albert Ayler,
Mission of Burma,
Prince Buster,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.