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 Germany and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 John Lydon to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Bluetip,
Pole,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Andrew Hill,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Interpol,
Jeff Mills,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Star Department,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Cheater Slicks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The American Breed,
Wings,
Carl Craig,
Minnie Riperton,
Jimmy McGriff,
Harry Pussy,
Malaria!,
Depeche Mode,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Quando Quango,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Basic Channel,
The Busters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Max Romeo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bang On A Can,
June Days,
Lou Reed,
Suicide,
Roy Ayers,
The Fugs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
MC5,
D'Angelo,
Sixth Finger,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rites of Spring,
Aural Exciters,
The Dirtbombs,
Cymande,
The Remains,
The Moody Blues,
Ohio Players,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Cure,
John Foxx,
Qualms,
Accadde A,
The Electric Prunes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Fad Gadget,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.