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 Ghana and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Holger Czukay 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 Jimmy McGriff to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Brand Nubian,
Unrelated Segments,
the Soft Cell,
Wings,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Wake,
Crooked Eye,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kayak,
Scientists,
Lou Reed,
Mad Mike,
Sister Nancy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Camberwell Now,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jeru the Damaja,
The American Breed,
The Count Five,
EPMD,
Delta 5,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Massinfluence,
The Real Kids,
Sex Pistols,
Slick Rick,
kango's stein massive,
the Association,
L. Decosne,
Agent Orange,
Hashim,
Loose Ends,
Mars,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bush Tetras,
T.S.O.L.,
CMW,
Joe Finger,
Dawn Penn,
Joy Division,
The Raincoats,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
JFA,
The Sound,
Joyce Sims,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Invisible,
The Move,
Adolescents,
Toni Rubio,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Accadde A,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pagans,
Parry Music,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sonny Sharrock,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Suburban Knight,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pulsallama,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.