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 Togo and from Lagos.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Detroit Cobras to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
Monolake,
Piero Umiliani,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Terry Callier,
Man Parrish,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Electric Prunes,
Jerry's Kids,
Throbbing Gristle,
Stetsasonic,
The Durutti Column,
The Last Poets,
Dark Day,
Marvin Gaye,
Traffic Nightmare,
David Bowie,
Bang On A Can,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Duran Duran,
Easy Going,
Sun City Girls,
The Moleskins,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Fuzztones,
Prince Buster,
Japan,
The Saints,
Aswad,
Second Layer,
Todd Terry,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Morten Harket,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Bar-Kays,
Ten City,
Lindisfarne,
Warsaw,
Panda Bear,
Glenn Branca,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sonny Sharrock,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Nirvana,
The Divine Comedy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Move,
Marine Girls,
Funkadelic,
Brass Construction,
Soulsonic Force,
Maurizio,
ABBA,
The Gap Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Depeche Mode,
Donny Hathaway,
The Red Krayola,
The Invisible,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.