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 Haiti and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Porter Ricks to the rock 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Lucky Dragons,
Grandmaster Flash,
Toni Rubio,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Searchers,
the Swans,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Angels of Light,
The Golliwogs,
Stiv Bators,
Surgeon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Davy DMX,
Alton Ellis,
Bluetip,
Nirvana,
Lower 48,
Interpol,
Thee Headcoats,
Yusef Lateef,
Mary Jane Girls,
Slave,
John Lydon,
Eden Ahbez,
Joe Smooth,
Con Funk Shun,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Red Krayola,
The Happenings,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Altered Images,
Duran Duran,
Kool Moe Dee,
DJ Sneak,
The Martian,
AZ,
Thompson Twins,
Easy Going,
Piero Umiliani,
Ponytail,
Sugar Minott,
Spandau Ballet,
The Smiths,
Bobby Sherman,
Tomorrow,
Man Eating Sloth,
Black Flag,
Eric B and Rakim,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Camberwell Now,
Rhythm & Sound,
Fat Boys,
Pagans,
Slick Rick,
Eddi Front,
Bootsy Collins,
Jerry's Kids,
Ohio Players,
New Order,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Au Pairs,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.