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 Mauritius and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eric B and Rakim to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Anakelly,
The Young Rascals,
Eric Dolphy,
Man Parrish,
Erasure,
The Pop Group,
Grauzone,
The Golliwogs,
Warsaw,
Girls At Our Best!,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bobby Sherman,
the Slits,
Simply Red,
Pulsallama,
Electric Prunes,
Soul II Soul,
Siglo XX,
Average White Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Chris & Cosey,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Television Personalities,
Dawn Penn,
Henry Cow,
Roxette,
The Pretty Things,
Jacob Miller,
Grey Daturas,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bill Near,
Visage,
Cal Tjader,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Fall,
Todd Rundgren,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Carl Craig,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sarah Menescal,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Agent Orange,
Marvin Gaye,
Mark Hollis,
Eric B and Rakim,
Youth Brigade,
The Neon Judgement,
Little Man,
Camberwell Now,
Throbbing Gristle,
Camouflage,
Dennis Brown,
Qualms,
The Leaves,
Albert Ayler,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Normal,
Howard Jones,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.