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 Serbia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Harpers Bizarre to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Dual Sessions,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Cramps,
Quantec,
Spandau Ballet,
Q and Not U,
Negative Approach,
Eve St. Jones,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sarah Menescal,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Liliput,
Robert Görl,
Radiohead,
Skaos,
Pylon,
Funkadelic,
Bang On A Can,
Cecil Taylor,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Inner City,
The New Christs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bush Tetras,
EPMD,
Thompson Twins,
Little Man,
DJ Sneak,
The Blackbyrds,
Flash Fearless,
Khruangbin,
Jacques Brel,
The Gladiators,
The Techniques,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cybotron,
The Star Department,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wire,
David Bowie,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joey Negro,
Pussy Galore,
Alice Coltrane,
Man Eating Sloth,
Television Personalities,
Black Sheep,
Gang Starr,
Livin' Joy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Johnny Osbourne,
In Retrospect,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sex Pistols,
Mission of Burma,
Ornette Coleman,
the Normal,
Visage,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.