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 Pakistan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 808 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nico,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Bar-Kays,
Lalo Schifrin,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Symarip,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Monks,
Camouflage,
Liliput,
Oblivians,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sugar Minott,
Scion,
Rod Modell,
Eve St. Jones,
Henry Cow,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Susan Cadogan,
Joy Division,
Faraquet,
Mad Mike,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Donny Hathaway,
Visage,
Barrington Levy,
Ludus,
AZ,
The Doors,
The Tremeloes,
Wolf Eyes,
The Busters,
Tomorrow,
Moebius,
Minutemen,
Lee Hazlewood,
Michelle Simonal,
Ohio Players,
Minny Pops,
Sun City Girls,
H. Thieme,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Marine Girls,
Shuggie Otis,
Joensuu 1685,
Lalann,
The Shadows of Knight,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joyce Sims,
Yaz,
The Monks,
Lakeside,
Black Moon,
Stetsasonic,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.