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 Algeria and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 güiro 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 Moss Icon to the rap 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 Delta 5. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Liliput,
James White and The Blacks,
The Move,
Boredoms,
The Smiths,
Masters at Work,
Jawbox,
Trumans Water,
Lou Reed,
Ituana,
Delta 5,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Erykah Badu,
the Human League,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sam Rivers,
Oblivians,
La Düsseldorf,
Peter & Gordon,
Saccharine Trust,
Little Man,
Mandrill,
Faust,
Khruangbin,
Nation of Ulysses,
Colin Newman,
Cheater Slicks,
Slave,
Eric Copeland,
Blancmange,
Blake Baxter,
Reagan Youth,
the Germs,
Mr. Review,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Derrick May,
the Fania All-Stars,
Max Romeo,
Stiv Bators,
48th St. Collective,
Moebius,
Zapp,
Fluxion,
The Fire Engines,
The Divine Comedy,
H. Thieme,
The Smoke,
Mad Mike,
The Angels of Light,
The Residents,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Zero Boys,
Neu!,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Joyce Sims,
Magazine,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Buckinghams,
Television Personalities,
Fela Kuti,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.