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 Angola and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the grunge 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 Joey Negro. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Slave,
Outsiders,
Scratch Acid,
Marc Almond,
Main Source,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Names,
Deadbeat,
The Offenders,
Spandau Ballet,
Josef K,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sex Pistols,
Pussy Galore,
Shuggie Otis,
The Fugs,
The Music Machine,
Nick Fraelich,
Ronan,
The Monks,
The Dead C,
Television Personalities,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kool Moe Dee,
MDC,
Interpol,
the Swans,
Jeff Mills,
X-Ray Spex,
AZ,
June Days,
Eric Dolphy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sam Rivers,
Maleditus Sound,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lindisfarne,
Electric Prunes,
Eli Mardock,
Technova,
D'Angelo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Groovy Waters,
Nirvana,
New Age Steppers,
Archie Shepp,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Fire Engines,
Alice Coltrane,
The Moody Blues,
Black Pus,
Joyce Sims,
Television,
The Toasters,
Cecil Taylor,
Stiv Bators,
Eden Ahbez,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.