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 El Salvador and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Todd Terry 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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
The Dirtbombs,
Negative Approach,
KRS-One,
Urselle,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wasted Youth,
The Shadows of Knight,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultra Naté,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Busters,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cecil Taylor,
the Human League,
The Pretty Things,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Monks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Swell Maps,
Essential Logic,
The Cramps,
Bobby Byrd,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Velvet Underground,
Stiv Bators,
Albert Ayler,
Funkadelic,
R.M.O.,
Amon Düül,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Symarip,
Talk Talk,
John Lydon,
Agitation Free,
Alice Coltrane,
Funky Four + One,
The Gap Band,
Bad Manners,
Guru Guru,
Bluetip,
Fugazi,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
New Order,
The Red Krayola,
Harry Pussy,
The Gladiators,
Matthew Halsall,
Eve St. Jones,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Bananas,
These Immortal Souls,
Tom Boy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Michelle Simonal,
The Martian,
Mark Hollis,
Gang Green,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.