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 India and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 harpsichord 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 Youth Brigade 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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
Royal Trux,
Q and Not U,
Interpol,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joy Division,
Brothers Johnson,
Suicide,
Drexciya,
Nick Fraelich,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Black Moon,
Sällskapet,
Marc Almond,
Ultravox,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Byron Stingily,
Das Ding,
Theoretical Girls,
The United States of America,
Hardrive,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Colin Newman,
The Mummies,
Magma,
Al Stewart,
Alice Coltrane,
Flash Fearless,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
AZ,
Khruangbin,
Simply Red,
Rekid,
Marcia Griffiths,
Young Marble Giants,
Junior Murvin,
Soulsonic Force,
Chris Corsano,
A Certain Ratio,
Quantec,
Tears for Fears,
The Slackers,
Bush Tetras,
Y Pants,
Don Cherry,
The Gap Band,
Peter & Gordon,
X-102,
The Gladiators,
The Selecter,
The Vogues,
The Barracudas,
The Cramps,
Cheater Slicks,
The Blues Magoos,
Hoover,
The Stooges,
Warren Ellis,
Shoche,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lightning Bolt,
Popol Vuh,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.