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 Kyrgyzstan and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Minor Threat to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Soft Cell,
Max Romeo,
David Axelrod,
The Cramps,
John Coltrane,
Yaz,
Unwound,
Throbbing Gristle,
Blancmange,
Faust,
Deakin,
Zero Boys,
The Red Krayola,
Nik Kershaw,
Newcleus,
Girls At Our Best!,
Aloha Tigers,
John Lydon,
Bill Wells,
Arcadia,
The Blues Magoos,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Stooges,
Harry Pussy,
World's Most,
EPMD,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mo-Dettes,
Radio Birdman,
The Electric Prunes,
Funky Four + One,
The Kinks,
Urselle,
Cluster,
Eve St. Jones,
Aswad,
Dark Day,
Q65,
Rufus Thomas,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eli Mardock,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sound Behaviour,
Oneida,
Sun City Girls,
The Victims,
Alphaville,
John Foxx,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Fuzztones,
The Offenders,
John Holt,
The Wake,
The Mojo Men,
The Index,
Metal Thangz,
Sugar Minott,
Jawbox,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.