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 Rwanda and from Copenhagen.
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 Lagos and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Minutemen to the funk 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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
Pagans,
Faraquet,
Sex Pistols,
The Busters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fluxion,
Index,
the Normal,
Todd Terry,
ABBA,
Alphaville,
Flash Fearless,
The Modern Lovers,
Black Moon,
Kenny Larkin,
Gang Gang Dance,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Vogues,
The Cramps,
Michelle Simonal,
Fatback Band,
Royal Trux,
Black Bananas,
Delta 5,
Easy Going,
Bad Manners,
The Standells,
Public Enemy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Joensuu 1685,
Don Cherry,
Los Fastidios,
Mandrill,
the Fania All-Stars,
Juan Atkins,
K-Klass,
The Neon Judgement,
Average White Band,
Nico,
The Birthday Party,
Fear,
MC5,
The Fuzztones,
Mo-Dettes,
Neu!,
The Stooges,
Popol Vuh,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
John Coltrane,
Rosa Yemen,
Ponytail,
John Foxx,
Mission of Burma,
Howard Jones,
Lou Reed,
Albert Ayler,
Donald Byrd,
Technova,
Robert Görl,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.