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 San Marino and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Scan 7 to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Suicide,
The Evens,
Maleditus Sound,
Jacob Miller,
The Seeds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Cabaret Voltaire,
U.S. Maple,
Basic Channel,
Gang Starr,
Magma,
The Birthday Party,
X-Ray Spex,
Drexciya,
The Moody Blues,
Ultravox,
Charles Mingus,
kango's stein massive,
Rites of Spring,
Eve St. Jones,
Janne Schatter,
Slave,
These Immortal Souls,
Black Bananas,
Frankie Knuckles,
Idris Muhammad,
Rakim,
Guru Guru,
Gang of Four,
Lebanon Hanover,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Mary Jane Girls,
Surgeon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bobby Womack,
Don Cherry,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lungfish,
Scan 7,
Connie Case,
The New Christs,
Skarface,
Hoover,
Gerry Rafferty,
Los Fastidios,
This Heat,
Lakeside,
Bang On A Can,
Pussy Galore,
Scrapy,
Alison Limerick,
Sex Pistols,
Todd Rundgren,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Arthur Verocai,
John Cale,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tubeway Army,
Lindisfarne,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.