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 Serbia and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 linndrum 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 John Holt to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Doors. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Alphaville,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Audionom,
DJ Style,
Tommy Roe,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Niagra,
Electric Prunes,
Kenny Larkin,
Bill Wells,
DJ Sneak,
Khruangbin,
Franke,
Make Up,
New York Dolls,
June Days,
Junior Murvin,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Offenders,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Marc Almond,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Inner City,
Henry Cow,
Los Fastidios,
The Durutti Column,
Minny Pops,
Cal Tjader,
Gang of Four,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Godley & Creme,
Scientists,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pussy Galore,
Groovy Waters,
Brass Construction,
David Bowie,
Aaron Thompson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Archie Shepp,
Stockholm Monsters,
Magma,
Quando Quango,
Clear Light,
Brick,
The Walker Brothers,
Pulsallama,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
E-Dancer,
The Cramps,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sight & Sound,
Oneida,
Radiohead,
One Last Wish,
Fat Boys,
Yusef Lateef,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fire Engines,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.