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 Senegal and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lee Hazlewood to the funk 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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Scrapy,
Khruangbin,
Harry Pussy,
The Misunderstood,
The American Breed,
Bobby Byrd,
Jesper Dahlback,
Crispy Ambulance,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Black Sheep,
B.T. Express,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eddi Front,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stetsasonic,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Move,
T.S.O.L.,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Bill Near,
Howard Jones,
Gang Green,
Stiv Bators,
Bang On A Can,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Toasters,
Eve St. Jones,
Black Flag,
Drive Like Jehu,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ralphi Rosario,
Suburban Knight,
Amon Düül II,
Clear Light,
Crime,
Spoonie Gee,
Soulsonic Force,
Second Layer,
Simply Red,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Wings,
Jacob Miller,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Peter and Kerry,
Scan 7,
UT,
E-Dancer,
Depeche Mode,
Joe Finger,
Marc Almond,
Bobby Sherman,
Dawn Penn,
Animal Collective,
Todd Terry,
Ludus,
Saccharine Trust,
The Fire Engines,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.