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 Dominican Republic and from Bremen.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Underground Resistance 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Blake Baxter,
The Moody Blues,
Tom Boy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Radio Birdman,
Monks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Outsiders,
48th St. Collective,
Bluetip,
Average White Band,
The Dave Clark Five,
UT,
Duran Duran,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bush Tetras,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eric B and Rakim,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
DJ Style,
The New Christs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gabor Szabo,
The American Breed,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Juan Atkins,
John Lydon,
Bill Wells,
Mr. Review,
Max Romeo,
Pylon,
Silicon Teens,
The Young Rascals,
The Techniques,
The Pretty Things,
Cecil Taylor,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Robert Hood,
Robert Wyatt,
Can,
Lungfish,
The Flesh Eaters,
Talk Talk,
Rapeman,
Monolake,
The Music Machine,
FM Einheit,
Public Image Ltd.,
Jeru the Damaja,
DJ Sneak,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marc Almond,
The Litter,
Piero Umiliani,
X-102,
Panda Bear,
Absolute Body Control,
Rosa Yemen,
The Searchers,
The Kinks,
Hoover,
Thompson Twins,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.