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 Mongolia and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Spoonie Gee to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nirvana 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
Swans,
The Durutti Column,
Altered Images,
Gong,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Anakelly,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Womack,
Gang Starr,
Hoover,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Soul Sonic Force,
Agent Orange,
Warsaw,
Simply Red,
Big Daddy Kane,
Derrick May,
Clear Light,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Beau Brummels,
Flipper,
Minutemen,
Outsiders,
The Motions,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Last Poets,
Boz Scaggs,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Talk Talk,
Surgeon,
Joy Division,
Procol Harum,
Janne Schatter,
The Saints,
Smog,
The Detroit Cobras,
Max Romeo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Oneida,
Graham Central Station,
June Days,
Audionom,
Marc Almond,
Monolake,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Sisters of Mercy,
MDC,
Malaria!,
Deepchord,
Crooked Eye,
Fat Boys,
Bobby Byrd,
Stereo Dub,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Neu!,
D'Angelo,
The Slackers,
Pierre Henry,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.