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 Mali and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 spring reverb 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 Procol Harum to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
L. Decosne,
Goldenarms,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fortunes,
The Gories,
Funky Four + One,
Metal Thangz,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Pop Group,
Blancmange,
Black Moon,
The Angels of Light,
Deadbeat,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pussy Galore,
The Martian,
Cecil Taylor,
48th St. Collective,
Flipper,
The Techniques,
the Germs,
Flamin' Groovies,
Interpol,
Pole,
Matthew Bourne,
Gichy Dan,
The Black Dice,
Wasted Youth,
Yellowson,
Joyce Sims,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Minor Threat,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gerry Rafferty,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Slits,
Rufus Thomas,
Franke,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Slave,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Y Pants,
The Remains,
Unwound,
Robert Görl,
Joe Smooth,
The Sound,
Susan Cadogan,
the Bar-Kays,
T.S.O.L.,
Lou Christie,
Clear Light,
Monolake,
Urselle,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Warren Ellis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Newcleus,
Todd Terry,
Whodini,
Boogie Down Productions,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.