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 Sierra Leone and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 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 B.T. Express to the jazz 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Divine Comedy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Public Image Ltd.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ponytail,
Altered Images,
Camouflage,
Moss Icon,
Drive Like Jehu,
Malaria!,
Ken Boothe,
Pere Ubu,
Colin Newman,
The Martian,
Whodini,
John Cale,
The Gories,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
David McCallum,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Clear Light,
Scion,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Harpers Bizarre,
Deakin,
This Heat,
Magazine,
The Blues Magoos,
Spoonie Gee,
Cluster,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lyres,
Hashim,
H. Thieme,
The Last Poets,
Quadrant,
These Immortal Souls,
Wire,
Make Up,
Matthew Halsall,
Saccharine Trust,
Von Mondo,
EPMD,
Piero Umiliani,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
U.S. Maple,
the Soft Cell,
Average White Band,
Danielle Patucci,
Sixth Finger,
Outsiders,
Television,
Desert Stars,
Neu!,
James White and The Blacks,
Blancmange,
Gang Gang Dance,
Iggy Pop,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sun City Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
New Order,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.