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 Cape Verde and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 snare 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 Dave Gahan to the grunge 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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
The Moleskins,
Bang On A Can,
Dave Gahan,
The Victims,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Blossom Toes,
Minnie Riperton,
Pierre Henry,
Y Pants,
AZ,
Symarip,
Sam Rivers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Monochrome Set,
Negative Approach,
Bob Dylan,
Harry Pussy,
One Last Wish,
The Black Dice,
Amon Düül,
Arcadia,
U.S. Maple,
Masters at Work,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sight & Sound,
Sexual Harrassment,
Swans,
The Birthday Party,
The Gladiators,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Monks,
Byron Stingily,
a-ha,
Sun Ra,
The American Breed,
Erasure,
The Sound,
Rhythm & Sound,
Second Layer,
Can,
Surgeon,
Kenny Larkin,
The Dave Clark Five,
Depeche Mode,
The United States of America,
Soul II Soul,
Heaven 17,
Joe Finger,
The Gories,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Wolf Eyes,
Soulsonic Force,
Man Parrish,
Agent Orange,
Gang Starr,
Mad Mike,
A Certain Ratio,
Quadrant,
The Divine Comedy,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.