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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Seoul.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin 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 Alton Ellis to the electroclash 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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Eli Mardock,
Nils Olav,
Swell Maps,
The Seeds,
Lindisfarne,
Organ,
Reuben Wilson,
Joy Division,
The Fall,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Moleskins,
Oblivians,
Ohio Players,
The Wake,
Rod Modell,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mantronix,
Eddi Front,
Soft Cell,
Animal Collective,
Guru Guru,
10cc,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wally Richardson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Happenings,
Kevin Saunderson,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Flag,
Shoche,
Loose Ends,
The Martian,
The Birthday Party,
Marcia Griffiths,
Magma,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Frankie Knuckles,
Severed Heads,
These Immortal Souls,
Quantec,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Peter & Gordon,
Easy Going,
Robert Hood,
The Monochrome Set,
MDC,
Marvin Gaye,
Charles Mingus,
Leonard Cohen,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ponytail,
Khruangbin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
World's Most,
Pere Ubu,
Wings,
The Detroit Cobras,
Oneida,
Con Funk Shun,
Inner City,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.