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 Albania and from Lille.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pagans to the disco 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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Lakeside,
Schoolly D,
cv313,
Excepter,
The Names,
Reagan Youth,
DNA,
Soul II Soul,
The Five Americans,
Soft Machine,
Massinfluence,
La Düsseldorf,
Trumans Water,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Quadrant,
Erasure,
Section 25,
Maleditus Sound,
Television Personalities,
Procol Harum,
The Selecter,
The Birthday Party,
Severed Heads,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
David Axelrod,
Pantytec,
Duran Duran,
Johnny Osbourne,
X-102,
Jeff Lynne,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Can,
Q and Not U,
Leonard Cohen,
Metal Thangz,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lower 48,
Black Pus,
Ituana,
The Real Kids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Josef K,
PIL,
Heaven 17,
H. Thieme,
David Bowie,
The Misunderstood,
The Human League,
New York Dolls,
Icehouse,
The Sonics,
Lightning Bolt,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Fire Engines,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Susan Cadogan,
Sun Ra,
Bob Dylan,
Absolute Body Control,
Joensuu 1685,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.