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 Russia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 linndrum 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 Chris & Cosey to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flash Fearless,
FM Einheit,
Monks,
Angry Samoans,
Vainqueur,
Dual Sessions,
Silicon Teens,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Colin Newman,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Symarip,
John Coltrane,
The Cramps,
Soul II Soul,
Monolake,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Y Pants,
The Busters,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Section 25,
Ronnie Foster,
Porter Ricks,
Sex Pistols,
The Sound,
Mr. Review,
The Residents,
The Vogues,
Los Fastidios,
Davy DMX,
The American Breed,
Shoche,
Wasted Youth,
The Happenings,
The Kinks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Quadrant,
Ludus,
The Wake,
John Holt,
Robert Görl,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Maleditus Sound,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
10cc,
Metal Thangz,
Piero Umiliani,
The Smoke,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ponytail,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Toasters,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Young Marble Giants,
Mars,
Spandau Ballet,
Amon Düül II,
the Association,
Eric Dolphy,
Thompson Twins,
Minnie Riperton,
The Fugs,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.