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 Mali and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 spring reverb 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 Iggy Pop to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
Erasure,
Drexciya,
Bang On A Can,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Crispy Ambulance,
New York Dolls,
The Happenings,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Roger Hodgson,
The American Breed,
Bobby Sherman,
Wings,
Monolake,
Hashim,
CMW,
Amazonics,
June Days,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Peter and Kerry,
Tom Boy,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Normal,
Harry Pussy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hoover,
Bush Tetras,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Monks,
B.T. Express,
Warsaw,
Glenn Branca,
Newcleus,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Monochrome Set,
Heaven 17,
Country Teasers,
Massinfluence,
Stetsasonic,
Jacques Brel,
Gang Starr,
The Real Kids,
Mandrill,
Gregory Isaacs,
Royal Trux,
Panda Bear,
Al Stewart,
Throbbing Gristle,
Freddie Wadling,
Brick,
Faust,
Eli Mardock,
Brothers Johnson,
Soulsonic Force,
Public Enemy,
Marmalade,
Ralphi Rosario,
Todd Rundgren,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Martian,
Anthony Braxton,
This Heat,
Sugar Minott,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.