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 Jamaica and from Mumbai.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Victims to the techno 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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Vladislav Delay,
Morten Harket,
cv313,
Ponytail,
Joe Smooth,
Ultra Naté,
OOIOO,
Arcadia,
Stiv Bators,
Jerry's Kids,
Donald Byrd,
Magma,
Easy Going,
Lower 48,
La Düsseldorf,
Bronski Beat,
Ten City,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Severed Heads,
The Doobie Brothers,
Crooked Eye,
Amon Düül II,
Ultravox,
Banda Bassotti,
Altered Images,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minor Threat,
Soul Sonic Force,
Tears for Fears,
Harpers Bizarre,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bobby Sherman,
Leonard Cohen,
Archie Shepp,
Roxette,
Harmonia,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sällskapet,
Todd Terry,
The Slits,
the Bar-Kays,
Sight & Sound,
This Heat,
The Residents,
Joyce Sims,
Flash Fearless,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
DNA,
Thompson Twins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kool Moe Dee,
Make Up,
The Associates,
Jacques Brel,
Boz Scaggs,
Interpol,
Can,
Ornette Coleman,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sugar Minott,
Quando Quango,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.