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 Nauru and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Zero Boys 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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Hashim,
Gastr Del Sol,
Eddi Front,
Matthew Halsall,
Radiopuhelimet,
Scratch Acid,
Black Bananas,
Cheater Slicks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rotary Connection,
Black Sheep,
Parry Music,
Yazoo,
the Swans,
Severed Heads,
The United States of America,
Dawn Penn,
Black Pus,
Erasure,
K-Klass,
Cameo,
Ultra Naté,
The Index,
These Immortal Souls,
Mars,
The Buckinghams,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ponytail,
Metal Thangz,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Henry Cow,
Mr. Review,
Curtis Mayfield,
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Byrd,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Fall,
The Busters,
The Smiths,
Roxette,
La Düsseldorf,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Siglo XX,
Andrew Hill,
Bad Manners,
Glambeats Corp.,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Martian,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fluxion,
MDC,
Flipper,
The Move,
Wolf Eyes,
Barrington Levy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.