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 Palau and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Sällskapet to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Gang Green,
Davy DMX,
Sixth Finger,
Quando Quango,
Crime,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Agent Orange,
Nirvana,
Masters at Work,
Pole,
The Toasters,
Slave,
Iggy Pop,
Eddi Front,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Magazine,
Silicon Teens,
The Young Rascals,
Con Funk Shun,
Sugar Minott,
Girls At Our Best!,
JFA,
Juan Atkins,
Todd Terry,
Jeru the Damaja,
Neu!,
The Vogues,
Negative Approach,
The Stooges,
48th St. Collective,
Massinfluence,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Smiths,
Nils Olav,
Radiohead,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Funky Four + One,
OOIOO,
The Flesh Eaters,
Harry Pussy,
Jacques Brel,
Ituana,
Dennis Brown,
Henry Cow,
Fatback Band,
The Real Kids,
Babytalk,
John Cale,
Lindisfarne,
Accadde A,
Donald Byrd,
Matthew Bourne,
The Litter,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rekid,
Popol Vuh,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Barrington Levy,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.