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 Dominican Republic and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Madrid.
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 marimba 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 Albert Ayler to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ultra Naté,
Depeche Mode,
Toni Rubio,
Popol Vuh,
Pulsallama,
Warren Ellis,
John Coltrane,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Saints,
Hot Snakes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Susan Cadogan,
Mad Mike,
Nirvana,
Moss Icon,
June of 44,
Loose Ends,
Freddie Wadling,
The Vogues,
Yellowson,
The Mummies,
Zero Boys,
Darondo,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Donald Byrd,
Television Personalities,
The Durutti Column,
Royal Trux,
Minnie Riperton,
Kerri Chandler,
Flipper,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Funky Four + One,
The Fall,
Maurizio,
The Busters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Radio Birdman,
Reuben Wilson,
John Lydon,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Happenings,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rotary Connection,
Vainqueur,
Avey Tare,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Index,
Lower 48,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Joy Division,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ludus,
Faust,
Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth.
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.