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 Korea South and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 48th St. Collective to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ossler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Remains,
The Selecter,
Jacques Brel,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Radio Birdman,
KRS-One,
Mo-Dettes,
The Modern Lovers,
Suburban Knight,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Massinfluence,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Sound,
The Grass Roots,
Thee Headcoats,
Scion,
Newcleus,
Max Romeo,
Ralphi Rosario,
Public Enemy,
Unwound,
Albert Ayler,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rod Modell,
Loose Ends,
Lebanon Hanover,
Rites of Spring,
New York Dolls,
Big Daddy Kane,
Letta Mbulu,
Piero Umiliani,
Average White Band,
The Victims,
Jerry's Kids,
Josef K,
Hoover,
Youth Brigade,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Organ,
Sugar Minott,
Ludus,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Cowsills,
Yaz,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Panda Bear,
Lakeside,
Bobby Sherman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
A Certain Ratio,
The Sonics,
Eric B and Rakim,
Peter & Gordon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
DJ Sneak,
The Five Americans,
Radiopuhelimet,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.