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 South Sudan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Madrid.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the theremin 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 Bad Manners to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
World's Most,
Royal Trux,
The Victims,
The Alarm Clocks,
Essential Logic,
Easy Going,
Fugazi,
The American Breed,
Tubeway Army,
Scientists,
The Kinks,
The J.B.'s,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nirvana,
The Leaves,
OOIOO,
the Soft Cell,
Urselle,
Cal Tjader,
Anakelly,
Vainqueur,
The Slits,
Simply Red,
Tom Boy,
X-101,
Icehouse,
The Selecter,
Harry Pussy,
The Cowsills,
Sixth Finger,
Desert Stars,
The Motions,
Lou Christie,
Young Marble Giants,
The Litter,
Pharoah Sanders,
Josef K,
The Saints,
The Black Dice,
Spoonie Gee,
The Red Krayola,
Peter and Kerry,
Quadrant,
The Standells,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Chrome,
Accadde A,
Danielle Patucci,
The New Christs,
Malaria!,
Black Flag,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Boredoms,
Ossler,
Swell Maps,
the Bar-Kays,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Masters at Work,
Rod Modell,
Los Fastidios,
Janne Schatter,
Circle Jerks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
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.