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 Tuvalu and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Tom Verlaine 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the grime 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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Joe & The Fish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Swell Maps,
Scientists,
Marc Almond,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bronski Beat,
The Sonics,
Rapeman,
Pet Shop Boys,
Desert Stars,
Patti Smith,
Glambeats Corp.,
Youth Brigade,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
48th St. Collective,
Tubeway Army,
The Count Five,
Circle Jerks,
Arcadia,
Intrusion,
Dennis Brown,
PIL,
Jacques Brel,
Lou Christie,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Pop Group,
Max Romeo,
Outsiders,
Stockholm Monsters,
K-Klass,
Sparks,
The Beau Brummels,
Essential Logic,
The Detroit Cobras,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Mummies,
Fat Boys,
Unrelated Segments,
the Swans,
The Index,
Oblivians,
The Star Department,
Chris Corsano,
Jeru the Damaja,
Masters at Work,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Pretty Things,
Joe Finger,
Sexual Harrassment,
Subhumans,
Radio Birdman,
a-ha,
Neu!,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tears for Fears,
Suicide,
John Lydon,
Quantec,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pole,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.