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 Mauritania and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 rhodes 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the techno 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pylon,
Royal Trux,
Fad Gadget,
Patti Smith,
Laurel Aitken,
Chris Corsano,
Organ,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nas,
the Sonics,
Byron Stingily,
Jimmy McGriff,
FM Einheit,
Scientists,
JFA,
Roxy Music,
La Düsseldorf,
A Certain Ratio,
T.S.O.L.,
Rhythm & Sound,
Barry Ungar,
Loose Ends,
Depeche Mode,
Letta Mbulu,
Fat Boys,
The Red Krayola,
Yusef Lateef,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Harry Pussy,
Kayak,
Q and Not U,
Amon Düül II,
The Gladiators,
Althea and Donna,
Tropical Tobacco,
Archie Shepp,
Pussy Galore,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Arab on Radar,
U.S. Maple,
Matthew Halsall,
Moebius,
Simply Red,
Robert Hood,
Deepchord,
Skarface,
Fatback Band,
David McCallum,
Gang of Four,
Hoover,
a-ha,
Yazoo,
John Coltrane,
Neu!,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Hasil Adkins,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.