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 Liberia and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 synthesizer 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 The Gun Club to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
The Techniques,
Eve St. Jones,
Roger Hodgson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roy Ayers,
Byron Stingily,
Fad Gadget,
Ronan,
Aural Exciters,
Stetsasonic,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fugazi,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Fire Engines,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The American Breed,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fortunes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Tomorrow,
Soft Cell,
These Immortal Souls,
MDC,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Radiopuhelimet,
Nik Kershaw,
Sun Ra,
Angry Samoans,
Q and Not U,
Newcleus,
Kerri Chandler,
Adolescents,
Tim Buckley,
Monolake,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jeru the Damaja,
Robert Hood,
The Pop Group,
Charles Mingus,
Sex Pistols,
Lalann,
Minutemen,
Procol Harum,
Connie Case,
Joy Division,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang On A Can,
Ohio Players,
The Star Department,
Boogie Down Productions,
Mr. Review,
Crispy Ambulance,
Arab on Radar,
Bootsy Collins,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
OOIOO,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Birthday Party,
The Mojo Men,
The Blues Magoos,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.