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 Marshall Islands and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 snare 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 Jesper Dahlback to the disco 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 Godley & Creme. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
The Happenings,
Mantronix,
Man Eating Sloth,
Skriet,
The Misunderstood,
Kayak,
Reuben Wilson,
Angry Samoans,
The Gories,
Scrapy,
The Knickerbockers,
Talk Talk,
The Smoke,
Aural Exciters,
Ken Boothe,
Connie Case,
Alphaville,
Black Bananas,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Aaron Thompson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fugazi,
Eden Ahbez,
Wolf Eyes,
Skaos,
Harry Pussy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
T.S.O.L.,
Albert Ayler,
The Gladiators,
Con Funk Shun,
Donald Byrd,
Malaria!,
Soul II Soul,
Fear,
Iggy Pop,
Minutemen,
Qualms,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Intrusion,
Groovy Waters,
Grey Daturas,
The Count Five,
Accadde A,
Bluetip,
The Residents,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Half Japanese,
Suicide,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ronnie Foster,
Ultra Naté,
Circle Jerks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Offenders,
Absolute Body Control,
The Shadows of Knight,
Whodini,
June of 44,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.