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 Israel and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Moon 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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlbäck record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Barrington Levy,
Andrew Hill,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Durutti Column,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Tremeloes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Shuggie Otis,
Simply Red,
Oneida,
Sun City Girls,
Vladislav Delay,
Darondo,
John Holt,
One Last Wish,
Royal Trux,
Siglo XX,
EPMD,
The Neon Judgement,
Intrusion,
Robert Wyatt,
Sixth Finger,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Lower 48,
Joy Division,
Basic Channel,
The Names,
Sonny Sharrock,
Barry Ungar,
The Fugs,
Derrick May,
Aaron Thompson,
The Five Americans,
The United States of America,
Boogie Down Productions,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Misunderstood,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Grass Roots,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Flash Fearless,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Boredoms,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tom Boy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lakeside,
Magazine,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Brand Nubian,
Rites of Spring,
the Bar-Kays,
Soul II Soul,
Section 25,
Ralphi Rosario,
T. Rex,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Raincoats,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.