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 Mexico and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Tehran.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Trojans to the electroclash 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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Soulsonic Force,
In Retrospect,
Erasure,
June Days,
Crash Course in Science,
Jimmy McGriff,
Danielle Patucci,
The Standells,
EPMD,
The Count Five,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
John Lydon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Aswad,
Sound Behaviour,
Spandau Ballet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Icehouse,
Alice Coltrane,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Steve Hackett,
Idris Muhammad,
Hashim,
Fear,
Joey Negro,
Supertramp,
Crime,
Easy Going,
Eden Ahbez,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Trumans Water,
K-Klass,
Ten City,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Wolf Eyes,
Deepchord,
The Smoke,
The Young Rascals,
The Moleskins,
Japan,
Moby Grape,
Prince Buster,
Althea and Donna,
The Sound,
Brand Nubian,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Delon & Dalcan,
Technova,
Colin Newman,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Public Enemy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bobby Sherman,
Royal Trux,
The Barracudas,
Scott Walker,
Nils Olav,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.