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 Fiji and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Iggy Pop 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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skarface record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
X-102,
The Cramps,
Rites of Spring,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Frankie Knuckles,
Drexciya,
Loose Ends,
Connie Case,
The Mojo Men,
Tomorrow,
Jacques Brel,
Fat Boys,
Robert Görl,
Bobby Womack,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joe Smooth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Josef K,
Eric Dolphy,
The Dirtbombs,
Symarip,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Walker Brothers,
Minor Threat,
Jeff Mills,
The Fuzztones,
Bauhaus,
The Offenders,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Searchers,
OOIOO,
Magma,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Delon & Dalcan,
Grey Daturas,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Moebius,
The Moody Blues,
Zapp,
cv313,
Pierre Henry,
Big Daddy Kane,
Junior Murvin,
Sexual Harrassment,
Negative Approach,
Flash Fearless,
Technova,
Organ,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Harry Pussy,
Metal Thangz,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The United States of America,
A Certain Ratio,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Television,
Theoretical Girls,
In Retrospect,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.