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 Netherlands and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
UT,
Depeche Mode,
Make Up,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Kinks,
The Offenders,
The Martian,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
In Retrospect,
Man Eating Sloth,
Public Enemy,
Gong,
Model 500,
Eric Copeland,
The Buckinghams,
Underground Resistance,
the Normal,
Hoover,
Ten City,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Al Stewart,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eve St. Jones,
Reuben Wilson,
Grandmaster Flash,
Warsaw,
Hot Snakes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
DJ Sneak,
Jacob Miller,
Nik Kershaw,
Kas Product,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tropical Tobacco,
John Lydon,
kango's stein massive,
Letta Mbulu,
8 Eyed Spy,
Soulsonic Force,
Yazoo,
Spoonie Gee,
Sex Pistols,
Tubeway Army,
The Associates,
The Wake,
Matthew Bourne,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jawbox,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lucky Dragons,
X-101,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ituana,
Boredoms,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Amazonics,
Cymande,
John Cale,
Con Funk Shun,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.