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 Guatemala and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 synthesizer 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 Kevin Saunderson to the electroclash 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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Sandy B,
Lou Christie,
Hoover,
Fluxion,
Peter and Kerry,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sarah Menescal,
Harry Pussy,
Warsaw,
The Real Kids,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Neu!,
Essential Logic,
Jawbox,
Bob Dylan,
Harpers Bizarre,
Freddie Wadling,
Drive Like Jehu,
Organ,
Erasure,
The Divine Comedy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Association,
Bobby Sherman,
Sixth Finger,
Eric B and Rakim,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fall,
Cecil Taylor,
Jimmy McGriff,
Cluster,
Jacques Brel,
The Pop Group,
E-Dancer,
Camouflage,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Delta 5,
D'Angelo,
Magma,
Aaron Thompson,
Joe Smooth,
ABBA,
KRS-One,
The Black Dice,
Sun City Girls,
Minnie Riperton,
The Angels of Light,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Yaz,
the Fania All-Stars,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Aural Exciters,
Q and Not U,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.