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 Cuba and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic to the rock 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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
Smog,
the Fania All-Stars,
Surgeon,
Archie Shepp,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lakeside,
Pere Ubu,
Nas,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Tremeloes,
The Associates,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Brand Nubian,
The Victims,
Au Pairs,
Panda Bear,
Sex Pistols,
The Count Five,
The Monochrome Set,
The Sisters of Mercy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Steve Hackett,
Gang Green,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
LL Cool J,
The Standells,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tom Boy,
Joyce Sims,
Marc Almond,
Tubeway Army,
The Dirtbombs,
One Last Wish,
the Human League,
the Bar-Kays,
Eric Copeland,
X-102,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cybotron,
Gichy Dan,
Sonic Youth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brick,
Animal Collective,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
In Retrospect,
Lou Christie,
Moss Icon,
The Angels of Light,
Ornette Coleman,
ABBA,
Guru Guru,
Neu!,
Qualms,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.