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 Tajikistan and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 synthesizer 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 Marcia Griffiths to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fluxion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Dark Day,
Infiniti,
Stetsasonic,
The Grass Roots,
The Motions,
Ornette Coleman,
Cheater Slicks,
Moss Icon,
Faraquet,
Sun Ra,
The Techniques,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mo-Dettes,
the Slits,
Zero Boys,
Prince Buster,
Scan 7,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Erykah Badu,
Donald Byrd,
R.M.O.,
Juan Atkins,
DJ Sneak,
Easy Going,
Marc Almond,
Jacques Brel,
Derrick Morgan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Average White Band,
The Dave Clark Five,
Janne Schatter,
The Dead C,
Skarface,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Man Eating Sloth,
Robert Hood,
Tommy Roe,
Blancmange,
The Raincoats,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Moon,
Hot Snakes,
Pere Ubu,
Barrington Levy,
Kerri Chandler,
Bluetip,
Vladislav Delay,
Bill Near,
The Skatalites,
Roger Hodgson,
kango's stein massive,
Rakim,
Youth Brigade,
Pantaleimon,
Iggy Pop,
Freddie Wadling,
Parry Music,
Sparks,
Skriet,
The American Breed,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.