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 Laos and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 These Immortal Souls to the punk 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boogie Down Productions,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Durutti Column,
Mo-Dettes,
the Slits,
Rapeman,
Pantaleimon,
Wire,
Fear,
Aloha Tigers,
The Offenders,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dual Sessions,
John Holt,
Robert Görl,
The Searchers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Hasil Adkins,
Alison Limerick,
Erasure,
JFA,
The Techniques,
Black Bananas,
Nick Fraelich,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Banda Bassotti,
Con Funk Shun,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Robert Wyatt,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eurythmics,
X-102,
Boredoms,
John Cale,
Outsiders,
Idris Muhammad,
Easy Going,
Soulsonic Force,
Chris Corsano,
The Happenings,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Scott Walker,
The American Breed,
Mary Jane Girls,
Steve Hackett,
Juan Atkins,
Robert Hood,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Joy Division,
Frankie Knuckles,
Agent Orange,
Darondo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Quadrant,
Television Personalities,
Pulsallama,
The Toasters,
Brand Nubian,
The Five Americans,
Todd Terry,
Joe Smooth,
Wings,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.