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 Guinea-Bissau and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ 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 Dead Boys to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Make Up,
Rufus Thomas,
X-101,
Rotary Connection,
Fatback Band,
Au Pairs,
Eurythmics,
The J.B.'s,
Sparks,
Archie Shepp,
Tears for Fears,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Moby Grape,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rakim,
China Crisis,
Barrington Levy,
Mr. Review,
The Vogues,
Buzzcocks,
The Wake,
Black Flag,
Flipper,
Bad Manners,
Mad Mike,
Circle Jerks,
MC5,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pagans,
PIL,
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Christie,
Lalann,
Spandau Ballet,
Jesper Dahlback,
Dawn Penn,
48th St. Collective,
Ronnie Foster,
Fela Kuti,
Crooked Eye,
Depeche Mode,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sonny Sharrock,
Fat Boys,
Brick,
Half Japanese,
Unwound,
Monks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Davy DMX,
X-Ray Spex,
The Selecter,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Aloha Tigers,
Lyres,
Ludus,
Brothers Johnson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
JFA,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.