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 Georgia and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lagos.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Y Pants to the grunge 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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every CMW 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Skriet,
Television,
Warsaw,
Nik Kershaw,
Prince Buster,
Todd Terry,
kango's stein massive,
Lindisfarne,
The Moleskins,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Fugs,
The Monochrome Set,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Smog,
Donny Hathaway,
UT,
The Flesh Eaters,
Niagra,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Mummies,
Ornette Coleman,
John Lydon,
Harmonia,
Deadbeat,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Boogie Down Productions,
Yazoo,
Jeru the Damaja,
In Retrospect,
Malaria!,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Toasters,
Banda Bassotti,
Sun Ra,
Oblivians,
Y Pants,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Association,
John Coltrane,
Eric B and Rakim,
Panda Bear,
Lalo Schifrin,
Pere Ubu,
The Five Americans,
Mad Mike,
Can,
The Smoke,
Cybotron,
Lungfish,
Joey Negro,
Sight & Sound,
Intrusion,
CMW,
Bobby Womack,
Black Moon,
Agent Orange,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.