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 Brazil and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 Moleskins to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Nick Fraelich,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Funky Four + One,
Yellowson,
Connie Case,
Pole,
Moss Icon,
The Stooges,
Los Fastidios,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cramps,
Sarah Menescal,
Index,
Gastr Del Sol,
Albert Ayler,
Khruangbin,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Warsaw,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Count Five,
The American Breed,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Colin Newman,
Barry Ungar,
Aaron Thompson,
Marine Girls,
Schoolly D,
Fugazi,
Bill Wells,
The Index,
The Standells,
Mantronix,
Lou Reed,
Suicide,
DJ Style,
T. Rex,
H. Thieme,
Todd Terry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Neil Young,
Yusef Lateef,
Freddie Wadling,
Oblivians,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Buzzcocks,
Metal Thangz,
Dawn Penn,
Kenny Larkin,
The Zeros,
Can,
Sight & Sound,
The Music Machine,
Make Up,
The Birthday Party,
Nirvana,
Absolute Body Control,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.