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 Vanuatu and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Masters at Work to the jazz 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 Fugazi. All the underground hits.
All Joe Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Terrestrial Tones,
Subhumans,
La Düsseldorf,
The Barracudas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Suburban Knight,
Motorama,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Scott Walker,
Amazonics,
Loose Ends,
Glenn Branca,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Trojans,
Royal Trux,
Ultimate Spinach,
Andrew Hill,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cymande,
Brick,
Minor Threat,
Cheater Slicks,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Selecter,
Ossler,
Fear,
Ronan,
Quantec,
New Order,
Half Japanese,
Theoretical Girls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Thee Headcoats,
LL Cool J,
Whodini,
Slave,
The Move,
Matthew Halsall,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
David Bowie,
Vainqueur,
Patti Smith,
The Star Department,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scientists,
X-102,
Amon Düül II,
Robert Wyatt,
Leonard Cohen,
Morten Harket,
Wire,
Wings,
Flamin' Groovies,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.