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 Bhutan and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ 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 The Seeds to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
DJ Sneak,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Black Pus,
Pharoah Sanders,
Intrusion,
Marshall Jefferson,
Youth Brigade,
Monolake,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jacques Brel,
Nick Fraelich,
Depeche Mode,
Banda Bassotti,
Juan Atkins,
The Searchers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Cale,
Deadbeat,
Sound Behaviour,
Swell Maps,
The Divine Comedy,
Second Layer,
OOIOO,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Interpol,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Oblivians,
Con Funk Shun,
New Order,
Minutemen,
Skarface,
Black Sheep,
Brass Construction,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fall,
Yaz,
Bobby Byrd,
Alphaville,
John Coltrane,
Vainqueur,
The United States of America,
Black Flag,
James White and The Blacks,
Parry Music,
Wally Richardson,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Pretty Things,
Country Teasers,
Sällskapet,
Bobby Womack,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Normal,
David McCallum,
Cal Tjader,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pagans,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.