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 Algeria and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bad Manners to the electroclash 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
The Knickerbockers,
Boredoms,
Audionom,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sex Pistols,
Dual Sessions,
The Grass Roots,
Curtis Mayfield,
Max Romeo,
Chris & Cosey,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bobby Byrd,
Kenny Larkin,
Todd Rundgren,
Pantaleimon,
Angry Samoans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
R.M.O.,
B.T. Express,
The Monks,
Michelle Simonal,
Rosa Yemen,
The Star Department,
Robert Hood,
Spandau Ballet,
Chrome,
Hashim,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Kinks,
In Retrospect,
The New Christs,
The Sound,
MDC,
The Durutti Column,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Amazonics,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Spoonie Gee,
Mission of Burma,
the Swans,
Johnny Clarke,
The J.B.'s,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Deakin,
Anakelly,
Vainqueur,
Graham Central Station,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Depeche Mode,
John Holt,
Glambeats Corp.,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
cv313,
Sarah Menescal,
The Beau Brummels,
The Toasters,
Zero Boys,
Joe Smooth,
Nik Kershaw,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.