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 Guinea-Bissau and from Bremen.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the funk 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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Dirtbombs,
Nik Kershaw,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Interpol,
Bob Dylan,
Black Moon,
Accadde A,
Scratch Acid,
Rapeman,
Tubeway Army,
Fela Kuti,
The Last Poets,
Popol Vuh,
The Invisible,
Erasure,
Hardrive,
Make Up,
Pantytec,
Radiohead,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Wire,
Youth Brigade,
Avey Tare,
June of 44,
The Happenings,
Ronnie Foster,
Heaven 17,
The Slackers,
John Coltrane,
Loose Ends,
cv313,
Patti Smith,
The Tremeloes,
Deadbeat,
The Motions,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Albert Ayler,
Supertramp,
Camouflage,
Warsaw,
Electric Prunes,
B.T. Express,
LL Cool J,
Joe Finger,
The Gories,
Moby Grape,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pere Ubu,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sonic Youth,
The Sound,
Dennis Brown,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Excepter,
Rod Modell,
Pole,
the Association,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.