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 Turkmenistan and from London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Jakarta.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Eve St. Jones to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Johnny Clarke,
The Associates,
Fela Kuti,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bobby Byrd,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
This Heat,
Pet Shop Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bill Wells,
The Walker Brothers,
Pussy Galore,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Anakelly,
Barclay James Harvest,
Youth Brigade,
Deepchord,
New York Dolls,
Y Pants,
Malaria!,
Skarface,
the Germs,
Lebanon Hanover,
Nils Olav,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Goldenarms,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Womack,
ABBA,
Leonard Cohen,
Liliput,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Urselle,
Sex Pistols,
Angry Samoans,
The Smiths,
The Gories,
Black Pus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Judy Mowatt,
Panda Bear,
The Stooges,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Barracudas,
Slick Rick,
The Blackbyrds,
Janne Schatter,
Davy DMX,
Wire,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wally Richardson,
B.T. Express,
Max Romeo,
Robert Hood,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joy Division,
Mo-Dettes,
Q and Not U,
the Association,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.