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 Burkina and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Deadbeat 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Joe & The Fish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Bobby Sherman,
The Monochrome Set,
Fatback Band,
the Sonics,
Wolf Eyes,
The Gories,
Gang Green,
Soft Machine,
Ohio Players,
the Germs,
Minutemen,
Accadde A,
Boredoms,
Mad Mike,
Lebanon Hanover,
Black Pus,
Inner City,
Jerry's Kids,
The Slackers,
Barry Ungar,
The Trojans,
Bobby Byrd,
The Durutti Column,
The Moody Blues,
Yazoo,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Delon & Dalcan,
Desert Stars,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
David Axelrod,
The Leaves,
Youth Brigade,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tom Boy,
Arab on Radar,
Royal Trux,
The Litter,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Spoonie Gee,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Raincoats,
The Velvet Underground,
Kayak,
Junior Murvin,
A Certain Ratio,
Cameo,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
This Heat,
Blossom Toes,
Davy DMX,
E-Dancer,
The Modern Lovers,
Aaron Thompson,
Mr. Review,
Kas Product,
The Gap Band,
Masters at Work,
Ultravox,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Birthday Party,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.