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 Rwanda and from Seoul.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Los Fastidios to the rock 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 Sound Behaviour. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Wasted Youth,
H. Thieme,
Joy Division,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fat Boys,
Reuben Wilson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Smog,
Tommy Roe,
Skarface,
Deakin,
The Angels of Light,
Sandy B,
Sparks,
Crime,
In Retrospect,
Don Cherry,
Agent Orange,
The Black Dice,
Gastr Del Sol,
Schoolly D,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Sonics,
Bill Near,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Deepchord,
Flamin' Groovies,
Make Up,
Lalann,
The Gories,
Dennis Brown,
10cc,
The Cure,
Clear Light,
The Residents,
Laurel Aitken,
Camberwell Now,
Bush Tetras,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Andrew Hill,
Man Parrish,
the Association,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
MDC,
Whodini,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Cameo,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Gap Band,
The Fire Engines,
Sixth Finger,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Graham Central Station,
The Grass Roots,
Arthur Verocai,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
B.T. Express,
John Cale,
Parry Music,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.