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 Bahamas and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 guitar 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 Gregory Isaacs to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Danielle Patucci,
June of 44,
Letta Mbulu,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Connie Case,
Jimmy McGriff,
Susan Cadogan,
Boz Scaggs,
Brothers Johnson,
Kurtis Blow,
Vladislav Delay,
Massinfluence,
Nik Kershaw,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gang of Four,
Japan,
Sugar Minott,
Mad Mike,
The Fugs,
Roxy Music,
Suburban Knight,
Skriet,
John Foxx,
Metal Thangz,
Scrapy,
Leonard Cohen,
Desert Stars,
Zero Boys,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Reagan Youth,
The Last Poets,
The Angels of Light,
Lou Reed,
Oneida,
The Slits,
Robert Görl,
Barry Ungar,
JFA,
Warren Ellis,
Matthew Halsall,
Essential Logic,
Spandau Ballet,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dirtbombs,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minny Pops,
Make Up,
Camberwell Now,
Pharoah Sanders,
Brick,
Lungfish,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Fire Engines,
Mars,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Con Funk Shun,
Bobby Sherman,
Derrick May,
The Gladiators,
Second Layer,
Wings,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.