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 San Marino and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Holger Czukay 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 Dead C to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Blake Baxter,
Oblivians,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Panda Bear,
Boredoms,
Sugar Minott,
Johnny Clarke,
Au Pairs,
Yusef Lateef,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Black Dice,
Goldenarms,
DNA,
Royal Trux,
the Germs,
The Fugs,
Black Sheep,
The Residents,
Charles Mingus,
Letta Mbulu,
Can,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
New Age Steppers,
Magma,
Radiohead,
Q and Not U,
Oneida,
Suburban Knight,
Drive Like Jehu,
Average White Band,
R.M.O.,
The Music Machine,
Maurizio,
Stetsasonic,
The Dead C,
Supertramp,
the Sonics,
Jandek,
The Happenings,
Pussy Galore,
Warren Ellis,
The Blues Magoos,
The Litter,
Delon & Dalcan,
Erykah Badu,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Zeros,
Roger Hodgson,
The Cramps,
The Monochrome Set,
The Evens,
F. McDonald,
Man Parrish,
X-102,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kerrie Biddell,
Roxy Music,
Public Image Ltd.,
Grey Daturas,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.