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 Turkmenistan and from Spokane.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Kevin Saunderson to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin 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 güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Mr. Review,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Letta Mbulu,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soft Cell,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eve St. Jones,
Gregory Isaacs,
Hardrive,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Alton Ellis,
the Swans,
Delon & Dalcan,
Harry Pussy,
The Selecter,
Fear,
The Birthday Party,
The Count Five,
Massinfluence,
Yaz,
Metal Thangz,
Lou Christie,
The Durutti Column,
Loose Ends,
The Evens,
Yusef Lateef,
Gang Starr,
Brand Nubian,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Matthew Bourne,
the Slits,
Bronski Beat,
Make Up,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
Easy Going,
Anthony Braxton,
cv313,
Dark Day,
Jacques Brel,
Mandrill,
Jerry's Kids,
Al Stewart,
John Holt,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Derrick Morgan,
Jandek,
F. McDonald,
The Index,
The Monochrome Set,
Todd Rundgren,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Five Americans,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bush Tetras,
the Human League,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.