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 Zambia 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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Grauzone to the dance 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Jimmy McGriff,
The United States of America,
Accadde A,
Marc Almond,
Suicide,
Rotary Connection,
The Dirtbombs,
Buzzcocks,
DNA,
David McCallum,
Man Eating Sloth,
Judy Mowatt,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Godley & Creme,
Jeff Lynne,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Nils Olav,
Thee Headcoats,
H. Thieme,
Chris & Cosey,
The Fire Engines,
Arcadia,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skaos,
Cecil Taylor,
Swell Maps,
Rufus Thomas,
The Smoke,
the Sonics,
Rod Modell,
Eric Dolphy,
EPMD,
Yusef Lateef,
48th St. Collective,
Hardrive,
CMW,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cymande,
JFA,
Kool Moe Dee,
Youth Brigade,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pere Ubu,
Fela Kuti,
Zapp,
Country Teasers,
Ronan,
Flipper,
The Mojo Men,
Con Funk Shun,
June Days,
Arthur Verocai,
Rekid,
The Raincoats,
Monks,
Sex Pistols,
Alton Ellis,
Organ,
Alice Coltrane,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.