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 Tuvalu and from Mexico City.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland 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 funk 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 synthesizer and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Stetsasonic,
David Bowie,
Das Ding,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The New Christs,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Cale,
Television,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Grass Roots,
Brothers Johnson,
Sister Nancy,
June Days,
DJ Sneak,
Delta 5,
Camberwell Now,
Popol Vuh,
One Last Wish,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Zapp,
ABBA,
Q and Not U,
Television Personalities,
Warren Ellis,
Scientists,
Joe Smooth,
Joensuu 1685,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Bar-Kays,
Jawbox,
Cheater Slicks,
Franke,
Barry Ungar,
Chris Corsano,
Soul Sonic Force,
Desert Stars,
Juan Atkins,
FM Einheit,
Michelle Simonal,
Man Eating Sloth,
Niagra,
Blake Baxter,
John Holt,
Neu!,
Visage,
Agent Orange,
Robert Wyatt,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mr. Review,
Althea and Donna,
James White and The Blacks,
Sam Rivers,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.