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 Nigeria and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Seeds to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang 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?
Radiopuhelimet,
Alison Limerick,
Joy Division,
Qualms,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Severed Heads,
AZ,
Average White Band,
Barbara Tucker,
Iggy Pop,
Maleditus Sound,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sexual Harrassment,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mo-Dettes,
Tommy Roe,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pantaleimon,
Jerry's Kids,
Althea and Donna,
Duran Duran,
Jeff Lynne,
The Cramps,
Absolute Body Control,
Los Fastidios,
David McCallum,
Jeru the Damaja,
Minutemen,
One Last Wish,
Desert Stars,
The Sonics,
Sällskapet,
The Last Poets,
Mr. Review,
The Fire Engines,
Pole,
Graham Central Station,
Kevin Saunderson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pussy Galore,
Kaleidoscope,
Yaz,
Soul Sonic Force,
Electric Prunes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Index,
Y Pants,
The Move,
Jeff Mills,
Magma,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Moss Icon,
Soul II Soul,
Spoonie Gee,
Warsaw,
Mission of Burma,
Television Personalities,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fear,
Quantec, Quantec, Quantec, Quantec.
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.