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 Malawi and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dawn Penn to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All La Düsseldorf tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
Charles Mingus,
Mary Jane Girls,
Harry Pussy,
Agent Orange,
Pantaleimon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Big Daddy Kane,
Freddie Wadling,
Moss Icon,
Crooked Eye,
Colin Newman,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eurythmics,
Man Parrish,
Ponytail,
Don Cherry,
Banda Bassotti,
Cymande,
The Human League,
Massinfluence,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Slits,
Dawn Penn,
Cameo,
Talk Talk,
Guru Guru,
Brothers Johnson,
Brick,
Al Stewart,
Derrick May,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rakim,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Can,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Raincoats,
Monolake,
Throbbing Gristle,
Warren Ellis,
In Retrospect,
Steve Hackett,
Josef K,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ohio Players,
Dark Day,
the Swans,
Lalo Schifrin,
Deadbeat,
Robert Hood,
Maleditus Sound,
Dual Sessions,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sight & Sound,
Joensuu 1685,
Subhumans,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pere Ubu,
Leonard Cohen,
The J.B.'s,
Fat Boys,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.