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 Antigua and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 chamberlin 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 The Angels of Light to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fluxion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Ludus,
Faraquet,
Black Pus,
The New Christs,
Slick Rick,
Quadrant,
Delta 5,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Trumans Water,
Sun Ra,
Bronski Beat,
Fat Boys,
Warren Ellis,
X-101,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sällskapet,
Con Funk Shun,
Blake Baxter,
The Monks,
Hoover,
Tears for Fears,
The Cramps,
Albert Ayler,
Boredoms,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
H. Thieme,
Ice-T,
Neil Young,
Jerry's Kids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
DJ Style,
China Crisis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Iggy Pop,
New Order,
New York Dolls,
Joey Negro,
Excepter,
Scan 7,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Count Five,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Cameo,
Matthew Bourne,
Throbbing Gristle,
Royal Trux,
Soul Sonic Force,
Charles Mingus,
Gang of Four,
Clear Light,
John Cale,
Pere Ubu,
Wally Richardson,
Toni Rubio,
Wolf Eyes,
Spoonie Gee,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Minnie Riperton,
Eden Ahbez,
the Swans,
Altered Images,
June of 44,
Joyce Sims,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.