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 Namibia and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sex Pistols to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Stooges. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Bobby Sherman,
Tomorrow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Groovy Waters,
The Saints,
Minutemen,
Livin' Joy,
The Monks,
Fatback Band,
Bob Dylan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fear,
Ronan,
Pierre Henry,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Grass Roots,
Lower 48,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rekid,
Crash Course in Science,
Faust,
The Move,
Mission of Burma,
The Five Americans,
R.M.O.,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Hashim,
The Black Dice,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sex Pistols,
Tommy Roe,
Godley & Creme,
Ponytail,
Dave Gahan,
David McCallum,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Parry Music,
Scrapy,
Brass Construction,
Suburban Knight,
Cal Tjader,
Gerry Rafferty,
Los Fastidios,
Chris & Cosey,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Remains,
X-101,
Bootsy Collins,
Eric Copeland,
ABC,
Deakin,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Dave Clark Five,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.