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 Honduras and from New York.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sixth Finger to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joensuu 1685,
the Germs,
Byron Stingily,
Amazonics,
Sonny Sharrock,
Reagan Youth,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ronan,
Fela Kuti,
MDC,
Radiopuhelimet,
Simply Red,
Wasted Youth,
Bad Manners,
New Order,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Smoke,
Pole,
The Fire Engines,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cecil Taylor,
The Star Department,
Circle Jerks,
Eric Dolphy,
Anthony Braxton,
Rekid,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mission of Burma,
the Slits,
Fad Gadget,
Eden Ahbez,
Minor Threat,
Mantronix,
Black Flag,
Pierre Henry,
The Tremeloes,
Warren Ellis,
One Last Wish,
Funky Four + One,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Connie Case,
David McCallum,
Fugazi,
Echospace,
AZ,
June of 44,
Brand Nubian,
John Foxx,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scrapy,
The American Breed,
Roxy Music,
Suicide,
Scan 7,
Yusef Lateef,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The United States of America,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.