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 Germany and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
B.T. Express,
Vainqueur,
The Black Dice,
DNA,
The Modern Lovers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Eden Ahbez,
Soft Cell,
Eyeless In Gaza,
cv313,
R.M.O.,
The Beau Brummels,
Magma,
Procol Harum,
Dual Sessions,
Kerrie Biddell,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Theoretical Girls,
Alison Limerick,
Youth Brigade,
MC5,
Lyres,
Amon Düül,
Eve St. Jones,
Pussy Galore,
The Cure,
Dorothy Ashby,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Q65,
Outsiders,
Derrick May,
The Mojo Men,
Dead Boys,
Marc Almond,
The Five Americans,
Severed Heads,
Can,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Pus,
Lakeside,
Tears for Fears,
Radiopuhelimet,
Tom Boy,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Sound,
Donald Byrd,
Frankie Knuckles,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kaleidoscope,
Goldenarms,
The Gun Club,
The Young Rascals,
Lower 48,
Unwound,
The Trojans,
Todd Rundgren,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Grass Roots,
Neil Young,
Rapeman,
Grey Daturas,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.