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 South Sudan 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Joy Division to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Junior Murvin,
Animal Collective,
Brick,
Mantronix,
Marcia Griffiths,
John Holt,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
John Coltrane,
Country Joe & The Fish,
EPMD,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Public Enemy,
Model 500,
The Residents,
PIL,
Outsiders,
Grey Daturas,
Das Ding,
The Fall,
Kerri Chandler,
Bobby Byrd,
Gerry Rafferty,
Howard Jones,
Franke,
The Saints,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Can,
Khruangbin,
Pagans,
Icehouse,
DJ Style,
Y Pants,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ice-T,
Second Layer,
Gastr Del Sol,
Qualms,
The Remains,
The Index,
The Alarm Clocks,
Camberwell Now,
Bad Manners,
Accadde A,
Steve Hackett,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
CMW,
Big Daddy Kane,
Agitation Free,
Kenny Larkin,
Sight & Sound,
The Knickerbockers,
The Pretty Things,
Freddie Wadling,
David Axelrod,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Yaz,
The Slackers,
Section 25,
Sparks,
Pole,
Crispy Ambulance,
Michelle Simonal,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.