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 Chad and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 snare 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 F. McDonald to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Fire Engines,
The Real Kids,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sun City Girls,
Tim Buckley,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobby Byrd,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Popol Vuh,
Barry Ungar,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Alice Coltrane,
Faraquet,
Eric Copeland,
Sällskapet,
Swans,
Roxette,
Eden Ahbez,
Drive Like Jehu,
Brothers Johnson,
Japan,
OOIOO,
Public Enemy,
Cymande,
Infiniti,
The Leaves,
The Pop Group,
Stereo Dub,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Crash Course in Science,
Junior Murvin,
Talk Talk,
The Golliwogs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Au Pairs,
Lower 48,
Easy Going,
CMW,
EPMD,
Thee Headcoats,
Fear,
Barrington Levy,
Black Pus,
Rapeman,
The Invisible,
Swell Maps,
Godley & Creme,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Sonics,
Ossler,
Lalo Schifrin,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Qualms,
Jawbox,
Soft Cell,
The Skatalites,
Bobby Womack,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.