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 Brunei and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Houston.
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 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 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 Aural Exciters to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin 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?
Davy DMX,
L. Decosne,
Mantronix,
Procol Harum,
Icehouse,
Chris & Cosey,
The Smiths,
Wolf Eyes,
Hasil Adkins,
La Düsseldorf,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lyres,
Aural Exciters,
Tears for Fears,
Rhythm & Sound,
Glenn Branca,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Judy Mowatt,
Danielle Patucci,
Dead Boys,
Laurel Aitken,
LL Cool J,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Todd Terry,
Cheater Slicks,
U.S. Maple,
Warren Ellis,
Yazoo,
X-101,
The Move,
the Human League,
The Busters,
Robert Wyatt,
a-ha,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ronnie Foster,
June Days,
Fela Kuti,
Lightning Bolt,
Von Mondo,
New Order,
Graham Central Station,
Blancmange,
The Red Krayola,
Lalo Schifrin,
Mo-Dettes,
Darondo,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bill Near,
The Music Machine,
Pole,
The Walker Brothers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Don Cherry,
Arab on Radar,
John Lydon,
Ituana,
Dennis Brown,
Hot Snakes,
Deepchord,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.