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 Swaziland and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Crime to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dawn Penn,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Man Eating Sloth,
D'Angelo,
Stereo Dub,
Massinfluence,
The Move,
Dave Gahan,
Pantytec,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobby Womack,
Yusef Lateef,
Dead Boys,
Scratch Acid,
Sällskapet,
The Kinks,
Black Pus,
Bobby Sherman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
World's Most,
The Blackbyrds,
Malaria!,
Popol Vuh,
Ludus,
Wasted Youth,
Todd Terry,
L. Decosne,
a-ha,
Johnny Clarke,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sonic Youth,
Kayak,
Underground Resistance,
Tears for Fears,
The Tremeloes,
Mandrill,
The United States of America,
The Skatalites,
The Fugs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Public Enemy,
Wally Richardson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Moss Icon,
Fela Kuti,
Byron Stingily,
Nas,
This Heat,
Black Sheep,
Laurel Aitken,
Crash Course in Science,
Fat Boys,
David McCallum,
Vainqueur,
Agitation Free,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.