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 Malaysia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 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 The Birthday Party to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Skarface,
The Gap Band,
Bobby Byrd,
Glenn Branca,
Pussy Galore,
Piero Umiliani,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Slackers,
Soft Machine,
Trumans Water,
Gabor Szabo,
Peter and Kerry,
Barry Ungar,
Marc Almond,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Todd Terry,
Radiohead,
Ohio Players,
Deepchord,
Goldenarms,
L. Decosne,
Grey Daturas,
Altered Images,
Lightning Bolt,
Marine Girls,
Scrapy,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Pretty Things,
Theoretical Girls,
Joensuu 1685,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cybotron,
The Gories,
Moss Icon,
The Litter,
Dark Day,
Intrusion,
Scientists,
Television,
Severed Heads,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Boogie Down Productions,
Scratch Acid,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Wake,
The Slits,
Camberwell Now,
The Toasters,
Minny Pops,
Dennis Brown,
DJ Style,
Zero Boys,
Black Bananas,
Rotary Connection,
The Dave Clark Five,
Parry Music,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Newcleus,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.