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 Qatar and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neu! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Monks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Slits,
Gabor Szabo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
the Normal,
Desert Stars,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joyce Sims,
Andrew Hill,
Easy Going,
Nico,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Golliwogs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Parry Music,
E-Dancer,
Sonic Youth,
Pussy Galore,
Magazine,
The Slits,
Ultra Naté,
Danielle Patucci,
Zapp,
Neil Young,
Eric B and Rakim,
Warren Ellis,
Swell Maps,
Soulsonic Force,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bang On A Can,
Alice Coltrane,
Cal Tjader,
La Düsseldorf,
Hoover,
Moby Grape,
Joe Finger,
The Martian,
Gong,
Prince Buster,
Absolute Body Control,
Matthew Halsall,
Flipper,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lightning Bolt,
Pole,
Terry Callier,
Iggy Pop,
Nils Olav,
Derrick Morgan,
These Immortal Souls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dave Gahan,
Bobby Womack,
Harry Pussy,
Quantec,
The Dave Clark Five,
Yazoo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Isaac Hayes,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.