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 Australia and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Severed Heads to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
Funky Four + One,
Average White Band,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Matthew Halsall,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Saints,
Oblivians,
The Seeds,
The Evens,
Eden Ahbez,
Pole,
Buzzcocks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Y Pants,
Marshall Jefferson,
Peter and Kerry,
Groovy Waters,
B.T. Express,
Blossom Toes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Misunderstood,
Harry Pussy,
Sun City Girls,
Newcleus,
Quadrant,
Pulsallama,
Morten Harket,
Flipper,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Wolf Eyes,
World's Most,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Standells,
The Busters,
Heaven 17,
Nas,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Neil Young,
The Divine Comedy,
Sight & Sound,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Move,
Yellowson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sixth Finger,
The Fire Engines,
the Slits,
Fatback Band,
The Black Dice,
R.M.O.,
The Associates,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Patti Smith,
The Neon Judgement,
Ronan,
Tom Boy,
Scrapy,
Index,
Gong,
Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls, Theoretical Girls.
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.