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 Cambodia and from Beijing.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Woodstock.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Sarah Menescal to the grime 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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funky Four + One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Absolute Body Control,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
EPMD,
Hot Snakes,
DNA,
The Zeros,
Electric Prunes,
Mark Hollis,
Spoonie Gee,
Country Teasers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Von Mondo,
the Association,
Bush Tetras,
UT,
The Shadows of Knight,
Robert Hood,
Janne Schatter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gil Scott Heron,
Newcleus,
The Martian,
The Gun Club,
The Seeds,
Don Cherry,
Lindisfarne,
DJ Style,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Buckinghams,
Sun City Girls,
Thompson Twins,
Boz Scaggs,
Bronski Beat,
Hoover,
Severed Heads,
Aloha Tigers,
Joe Smooth,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hashim,
Iggy Pop,
Magma,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dark Day,
Ken Boothe,
The Misunderstood,
The United States of America,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Goldenarms,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Freddie Wadling,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Litter,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
D'Angelo,
One Last Wish,
Erasure,
World's Most,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.