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 Bolivia and from Portland.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Delon & Dalcan. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare,
The Gun Club,
Cymande,
Jawbox,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Dirtbombs,
Rufus Thomas,
Mission of Burma,
The Motions,
The Residents,
Sun City Girls,
Oblivians,
Popol Vuh,
Eric B and Rakim,
Underground Resistance,
Accadde A,
Negative Approach,
Harmonia,
The Fuzztones,
Ronnie Foster,
Nils Olav,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Bar-Kays,
Liliput,
The Martian,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Soul II Soul,
The Offenders,
The Saints,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lakeside,
Grauzone,
Black Bananas,
Aural Exciters,
Amon Düül II,
Wasted Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Swans,
Black Flag,
Bobby Womack,
Skarface,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fad Gadget,
Simply Red,
The Doors,
The Smoke,
The Associates,
Barbara Tucker,
New Age Steppers,
Max Romeo,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultravox,
Basic Channel,
The Litter,
DJ Sneak,
Hot Snakes,
The Move,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Aloha Tigers,
Marine Girls,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.