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 Vietnam and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gang Gang Dance to the rap 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 The Selecter. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
The Pretty Things,
Ultra Naté,
Camouflage,
The Standells,
The Count Five,
Neil Young,
kango's stein massive,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Slave,
Wire,
Boz Scaggs,
Faraquet,
The Moleskins,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Music Machine,
The Red Krayola,
Lyres,
Gichy Dan,
Aloha Tigers,
Matthew Bourne,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sugar Minott,
The Monks,
Clear Light,
Q65,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pulsallama,
Iggy Pop,
Donny Hathaway,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sonny Sharrock,
Glenn Branca,
Bill Near,
The Move,
Anakelly,
Khruangbin,
Bootsy Collins,
Bush Tetras,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Dead C,
The J.B.'s,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mary Jane Girls,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Doors,
Deepchord,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
MC5,
Fluxion,
Althea and Donna,
the Germs,
Patti Smith,
Lalo Schifrin,
Stiv Bators,
Faust,
The Seeds,
Al Stewart,
PIL,
Procol Harum,
48th St. Collective,
Minnie Riperton,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.