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 Cape Verde and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Pet Shop Boys to the grunge 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gastr Del Sol,
The Last Poets,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ohio Players,
OOIOO,
Los Fastidios,
The Music Machine,
MDC,
Liliput,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stiv Bators,
Mo-Dettes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Mars,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Pop Group,
The Evens,
Rosa Yemen,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Slits,
the Soft Cell,
Joey Negro,
The Searchers,
Prince Buster,
Deakin,
L. Decosne,
KRS-One,
The Gories,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Popol Vuh,
Surgeon,
John Lydon,
The Fall,
Gabor Szabo,
Nik Kershaw,
Cameo,
Grauzone,
Warren Ellis,
Lakeside,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
A Flock of Seagulls,
MC5,
June Days,
Throbbing Gristle,
Idris Muhammad,
Delon & Dalcan,
U.S. Maple,
Sight & Sound,
Sällskapet,
Pierre Henry,
The Birthday Party,
The Walker Brothers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Roxette,
Aswad,
Rakim,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Chrome,
The Divine Comedy,
Negative Approach,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.