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 Equatorial Guinea and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 guitar 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 Soul II Soul to the grunge 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All The Doobie Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Juan Atkins,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Leaves,
the Association,
Jacques Brel,
Buzzcocks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tim Buckley,
The American Breed,
LL Cool J,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jerry's Kids,
The Real Kids,
Delon & Dalcan,
Faust,
The Angels of Light,
The Happenings,
Groovy Waters,
Sällskapet,
Wasted Youth,
Terrestrial Tones,
Anthony Braxton,
The Standells,
Eddi Front,
Crash Course in Science,
The Music Machine,
Aswad,
Panda Bear,
Wings,
Todd Terry,
Ralphi Rosario,
Porter Ricks,
Basic Channel,
Model 500,
Cal Tjader,
Malaria!,
In Retrospect,
Underground Resistance,
Tommy Roe,
Negative Approach,
Colin Newman,
Livin' Joy,
Angry Samoans,
Bush Tetras,
The Fuzztones,
Mad Mike,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Metal Thangz,
Niagra,
Saccharine Trust,
Slave,
Patti Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
The Residents,
The Selecter,
Pere Ubu,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Bananas,
Robert Wyatt,
John Cale,
Boogie Down Productions,
Black Pus,
Joe Smooth,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.