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 Netherlands and from Bologna.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mumbai.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Barbara Tucker to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Monochrome Set. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Ultra Naté,
Stereo Dub,
Soul II Soul,
The Flesh Eaters,
Delta 5,
Agent Orange,
Harry Pussy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jandek,
Slave,
Desert Stars,
Lakeside,
Eddi Front,
Boz Scaggs,
Marc Almond,
Quantec,
Silicon Teens,
Ultimate Spinach,
Faust,
The Slackers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Raincoats,
Depeche Mode,
The Modern Lovers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Spoonie Gee,
The Fugs,
Minny Pops,
Sugar Minott,
The Beau Brummels,
Soft Cell,
The Gories,
Aaron Thompson,
Index,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Move,
Crispian St. Peters,
Thee Headcoats,
Young Marble Giants,
Deadbeat,
T. Rex,
Neil Young,
Gabor Szabo,
Kenny Larkin,
UT,
Joy Division,
Urselle,
Roger Hodgson,
8 Eyed Spy,
Alison Limerick,
Underground Resistance,
Scott Walker,
Byron Stingily,
Roxette,
Q65,
Arab on Radar,
Crooked Eye,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eden Ahbez,
Bobby Byrd,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.