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 Qatar and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 spring reverb 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 The Smoke to the funk 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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
The Misunderstood,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Camouflage,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Los Fastidios,
Bang On A Can,
Mantronix,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Y Pants,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Public Enemy,
Alton Ellis,
The Smoke,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Audionom,
Agent Orange,
the Soft Cell,
Roger Hodgson,
Quantec,
Kerrie Biddell,
Magma,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Happenings,
E-Dancer,
Wally Richardson,
This Heat,
Matthew Bourne,
Reuben Wilson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Wasted Youth,
Crispian St. Peters,
James White and The Blacks,
Soulsonic Force,
UT,
Slave,
Prince Buster,
Bad Manners,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Piero Umiliani,
Roxette,
Skarface,
Buzzcocks,
Neil Young,
David Axelrod,
The Mojo Men,
a-ha,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Electric Prunes,
Stiv Bators,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Anakelly,
Chrome,
JFA,
48th St. Collective,
The Cramps,
Slick Rick,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.