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 Afghanistan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Johannesburg.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ultimate Spinach 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Moss Icon,
Icehouse,
Jacob Miller,
Chris Corsano,
Johnny Clarke,
Hardrive,
Metal Thangz,
Scratch Acid,
Barbara Tucker,
The Five Americans,
The Knickerbockers,
Suburban Knight,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ohio Players,
Gichy Dan,
Cluster,
The Cramps,
The Fortunes,
Maurizio,
Barrington Levy,
The Smiths,
Byron Stingily,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Flesh Eaters,
Excepter,
Scrapy,
Drive Like Jehu,
PIL,
Michelle Simonal,
The Angels of Light,
The Red Krayola,
Public Enemy,
Pantaleimon,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Misunderstood,
Sam Rivers,
Thee Headcoats,
Flash Fearless,
The Fuzztones,
Cybotron,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eric B and Rakim,
Man Eating Sloth,
The J.B.'s,
Liliput,
The Sonics,
Faraquet,
MC5,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bobby Byrd,
The Skatalites,
Ossler,
Altered Images,
The Zeros,
Roy Ayers,
Nico,
Gang Green,
Massinfluence,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.