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 Somalia and from Halifax.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Fugazi to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hashim,
Make Up,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lucky Dragons,
Aloha Tigers,
Depeche Mode,
Mark Hollis,
Scan 7,
Wolf Eyes,
Marc Almond,
48th St. Collective,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Niagra,
Gastr Del Sol,
Chris & Cosey,
The Durutti Column,
Lou Christie,
Bad Manners,
Ponytail,
Bizarre Inc.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Television Personalities,
Pantytec,
Masters at Work,
Man Parrish,
Funkadelic,
Tears for Fears,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Gories,
Sexual Harrassment,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Spandau Ballet,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Litter,
Pharoah Sanders,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marvin Gaye,
Dave Gahan,
The Seeds,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Liliput,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
A Certain Ratio,
Das Ding,
David McCallum,
Joy Division,
The Pop Group,
Jawbox,
Aaron Thompson,
New Age Steppers,
The Misunderstood,
10cc,
Nas,
The Electric Prunes,
The Music Machine,
Scientists,
Henry Cow,
Warren Ellis,
The Last Poets,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.