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 Jordan and from Accra.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the grime 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 Anakelly. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deepchord,
Symarip,
Desert Stars,
Supertramp,
Black Pus,
The Smiths,
Can,
Nik Kershaw,
Franke,
Gang Starr,
UT,
Schoolly D,
The Doobie Brothers,
DJ Sneak,
Grandmaster Flash,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Evens,
The Fortunes,
Black Flag,
Eric Copeland,
Soulsonic Force,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pet Shop Boys,
Juan Atkins,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Beau Brummels,
OOIOO,
The Last Poets,
Warren Ellis,
The Divine Comedy,
E-Dancer,
The Saints,
Nils Olav,
Dennis Brown,
David Axelrod,
L. Decosne,
DNA,
New Age Steppers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Techniques,
A Certain Ratio,
Shoche,
Scratch Acid,
Robert Hood,
Chris & Cosey,
Ossler,
Blossom Toes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Faraquet,
Bob Dylan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Steve Hackett,
Mission of Burma,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Inner City,
H. Thieme,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eric B and Rakim,
Brothers Johnson,
Nas,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.