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 Mexico and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Slits to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Jesus and Mary Chain. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Ronnie Foster,
Grauzone,
UT,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Isaac Hayes,
Sex Pistols,
The Blackbyrds,
Zapp,
Bill Near,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nas,
Blossom Toes,
Roger Hodgson,
Public Image Ltd.,
Mission of Burma,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Yusef Lateef,
Gabor Szabo,
The Human League,
Peter & Gordon,
The Saints,
Pussy Galore,
The Fall,
The Monochrome Set,
DJ Style,
Quantec,
Youth Brigade,
The Trojans,
Robert Hood,
The Divine Comedy,
ABC,
Animal Collective,
The Sonics,
Ludus,
Soulsonic Force,
The Selecter,
Yellowson,
the Slits,
Crime,
CMW,
The Star Department,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stetsasonic,
Jandek,
Sarah Menescal,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crash Course in Science,
The Vogues,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Magma,
The Five Americans,
Bronski Beat,
Scrapy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Outsiders,
Tim Buckley,
The Buckinghams,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Golliwogs,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.