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 Comoros and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Janne Schatter to the electroclash 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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
the Normal,
Albert Ayler,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ultravox,
Tomorrow,
Letta Mbulu,
Vainqueur,
OOIOO,
Curtis Mayfield,
Arab on Radar,
Fat Boys,
Joe Finger,
the Human League,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Sonics,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kevin Saunderson,
Crime,
Sexual Harrassment,
Index,
Basic Channel,
Skriet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rites of Spring,
The Young Rascals,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Das Ding,
Eve St. Jones,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Germs,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lalann,
The Gories,
Babytalk,
Severed Heads,
Clear Light,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sam Rivers,
Brothers Johnson,
Accadde A,
Rekid,
Robert Wyatt,
Shoche,
Juan Atkins,
Sister Nancy,
Masters at Work,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Maleditus Sound,
Underground Resistance,
Johnny Clarke,
Stereo Dub,
Man Parrish,
The Index,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Marc Almond,
Ten City,
Absolute Body Control,
Boz Scaggs,
the Bar-Kays,
Matthew Bourne,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.