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 Cambodia and from Lagos.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Liliput to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Con Funk Shun,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Byrd,
Sixth Finger,
The Dirtbombs,
The Smiths,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Crime,
Black Moon,
Avey Tare,
The Fire Engines,
Charles Mingus,
X-101,
Thompson Twins,
Roger Hodgson,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Heaven 17,
Kenny Larkin,
New York Dolls,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mars,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Arab on Radar,
Grauzone,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scott Walker,
The Kinks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Yellowson,
Desert Stars,
Johnny Clarke,
Intrusion,
Zero Boys,
Matthew Bourne,
The Durutti Column,
The Motions,
Trumans Water,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Bar-Kays,
Bill Near,
Loose Ends,
AZ,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Glambeats Corp.,
X-Ray Spex,
Au Pairs,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Mummies,
The Raincoats,
Fatback Band,
June Days,
Von Mondo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Zeros,
John Foxx,
Ken Boothe,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.