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 Malaysia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Terrestrial Tones to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 June Days. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rakim,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Toasters,
These Immortal Souls,
Yellowson,
Malaria!,
Slick Rick,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Niagra,
Bob Dylan,
The Fall,
Swell Maps,
Terry Callier,
Excepter,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Sound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barry Ungar,
Franke,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bang On A Can,
Banda Bassotti,
Unrelated Segments,
Gang Green,
a-ha,
The Associates,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Raincoats,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fugazi,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bobby Womack,
Yazoo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Stereo Dub,
Sexual Harrassment,
Parry Music,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sight & Sound,
Crash Course in Science,
A Certain Ratio,
The Last Poets,
Khruangbin,
Johnny Osbourne,
Brand Nubian,
The Dirtbombs,
Harmonia,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Qualms,
T. Rex,
Max Romeo,
Schoolly D,
the Slits,
Angry Samoans,
Groovy Waters,
Freddie Wadling,
Rites of Spring,
Ponytail,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.