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 Yemen and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Nik Kershaw to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Roy Ayers,
The Five Americans,
Urselle,
The Mummies,
David Axelrod,
Gabor Szabo,
Johnny Clarke,
Flamin' Groovies,
John Lydon,
Dead Boys,
Shuggie Otis,
Marine Girls,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Dirtbombs,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Dead C,
Slave,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Wasted Youth,
Avey Tare,
Excepter,
The Saints,
the Fania All-Stars,
Black Sheep,
The Gun Club,
Steve Hackett,
The Music Machine,
Vladislav Delay,
Minny Pops,
Scion,
In Retrospect,
Black Pus,
Jeff Mills,
The Sound,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Leaves,
Sun Ra,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Curtis Mayfield,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Gladiators,
Lalo Schifrin,
Magazine,
Bauhaus,
Judy Mowatt,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Average White Band,
The Fall,
A Certain Ratio,
Warsaw,
Pussy Galore,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Doors,
Althea and Donna,
Lungfish,
The Tremeloes,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Vogues,
the Sonics,
The Angels of Light,
Mantronix,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.