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 Morocco and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the rap 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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ludus 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Monochrome Set,
Traffic Nightmare,
Inner City,
The Cowsills,
Yellowson,
X-Ray Spex,
Barbara Tucker,
Masters at Work,
Goldenarms,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Smiths,
DJ Sneak,
Max Romeo,
Joe Finger,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Letta Mbulu,
The Durutti Column,
A Certain Ratio,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sister Nancy,
Dead Boys,
John Coltrane,
Youth Brigade,
Half Japanese,
Reuben Wilson,
Thompson Twins,
Crispy Ambulance,
Lou Christie,
Bluetip,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Harry Pussy,
B.T. Express,
Fela Kuti,
James White and The Blacks,
Duran Duran,
Godley & Creme,
Camouflage,
Ralphi Rosario,
Barclay James Harvest,
Heaven 17,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The United States of America,
Soft Machine,
Television,
The Last Poets,
Bizarre Inc.,
Desert Stars,
Crime,
Rapeman,
Leonard Cohen,
Steve Hackett,
The Mojo Men,
Eve St. Jones,
Wings,
Maleditus Sound,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sun City Girls,
Easy Going,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.