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 Malta and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 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 Black Moon to the crunk 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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Fad Gadget,
Albert Ayler,
Lucky Dragons,
Flash Fearless,
The Real Kids,
Scrapy,
These Immortal Souls,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Residents,
Sugar Minott,
Laurel Aitken,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Anthony Braxton,
Lower 48,
Clear Light,
Audionom,
The Sisters of Mercy,
L. Decosne,
Amon Düül II,
The Seeds,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Agent Orange,
The Index,
Chrome,
Howard Jones,
Gang of Four,
This Heat,
The Divine Comedy,
Subhumans,
FM Einheit,
Brass Construction,
Rapeman,
Rod Modell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Scratch Acid,
Buzzcocks,
Inner City,
Peter and Kerry,
Delon & Dalcan,
Main Source,
Jeff Lynne,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Whodini,
David Bowie,
Skaos,
Reagan Youth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Amazonics,
Unwound,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Slave,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
DJ Sneak,
The Kinks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Doors,
Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance, Gang Gang Dance.
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.