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 Azerbaijan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Stockholm.
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 marimba 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 Susan Cadogan to the disco 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 The Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Grey Daturas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Surgeon,
Metal Thangz,
H. Thieme,
Glambeats Corp.,
X-Ray Spex,
R.M.O.,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Residents,
Boz Scaggs,
Tom Boy,
Rites of Spring,
Peter & Gordon,
Peter and Kerry,
The Tremeloes,
The Misunderstood,
E-Dancer,
Interpol,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eurythmics,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Mummies,
David Bowie,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Magma,
The Selecter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
La Düsseldorf,
Rod Modell,
T. Rex,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Subhumans,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jimmy McGriff,
Maurizio,
Deadbeat,
Lakeside,
The Last Poets,
Spoonie Gee,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Robert Görl,
Laurel Aitken,
Ronan,
Marcia Griffiths,
Dead Boys,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roger Hodgson,
Agent Orange,
Gichy Dan,
Patti Smith,
Tears for Fears,
Dawn Penn,
Grauzone,
Johnny Osbourne,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Anakelly,
The Velvet Underground,
Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis.
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.