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 Lesotho and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 synthesizer 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 Tropical Tobacco to the crunk 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Tim Buckley tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ralphi Rosario record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
A Flock of Seagulls,
E-Dancer,
These Immortal Souls,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Simply Red,
Joe Smooth,
R.M.O.,
Bad Manners,
The Trojans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Scion,
Reuben Wilson,
Cameo,
Ice-T,
Amazonics,
Minnie Riperton,
The Mojo Men,
Marc Almond,
The Index,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Cheater Slicks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wasted Youth,
B.T. Express,
Eve St. Jones,
Andrew Hill,
Banda Bassotti,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Country Teasers,
The Remains,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Fad Gadget,
The Offenders,
Faraquet,
Groovy Waters,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Skaos,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Chris Corsano,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Blackbyrds,
Ralphi Rosario,
MC5,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Doors,
Letta Mbulu,
DNA,
Kas Product,
The Slackers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
John Coltrane,
Gang Starr,
Scott Walker,
Sam Rivers,
The Gladiators,
Qualms,
The Dead C,
Derrick Morgan,
The Grass Roots,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.