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 Kiribati and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 synthesizer 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 B.T. Express to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Alphaville tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
Spoonie Gee,
Sandy B,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Letta Mbulu,
Pharoah Sanders,
Junior Murvin,
Ponytail,
Josef K,
Erasure,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Holt,
Gang Starr,
Slave,
Drive Like Jehu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Unrelated Segments,
Swans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Max Romeo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roxy Music,
The Blackbyrds,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Moby Grape,
Whodini,
The Offenders,
K-Klass,
Pantaleimon,
Fela Kuti,
T.S.O.L.,
The Gap Band,
Byron Stingily,
Maleditus Sound,
Echospace,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Buzzcocks,
Ituana,
Michelle Simonal,
John Cale,
Brothers Johnson,
Howard Jones,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eve St. Jones,
Yazoo,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Red Krayola,
AZ,
Marmalade,
Sam Rivers,
Stiv Bators,
Deakin,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobby Womack,
Gerry Rafferty,
Idris Muhammad,
Adolescents,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Marc Almond,
The Zeros,
Radiopuhelimet,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft.
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.