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 Sri Lanka and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator 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 Underground Resistance to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Litter,
Zapp,
John Lydon,
Lower 48,
Graham Central Station,
The Kinks,
Lyres,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Victims,
Lightning Bolt,
Heaven 17,
The Gun Club,
AZ,
Unrelated Segments,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Don Cherry,
Laurel Aitken,
Ten City,
Zero Boys,
Jeru the Damaja,
New York Dolls,
Drexciya,
Kaleidoscope,
The New Christs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Robert Görl,
Arthur Verocai,
Ronan,
Sound Behaviour,
Susan Cadogan,
Maurizio,
Skaos,
The Doors,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Outsiders,
Dawn Penn,
Jesper Dahlback,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gang Green,
Amon Düül II,
Excepter,
Porter Ricks,
the Soft Cell,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Aloha Tigers,
Marmalade,
Jandek,
Desert Stars,
Judy Mowatt,
Faraquet,
Minutemen,
Lucky Dragons,
EPMD,
Radiohead,
Piero Umiliani,
The Knickerbockers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Stetsasonic,
The Gap Band,
The Electric Prunes,
Ornette Coleman,
Franke,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band.
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.