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 Pakistan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 spring reverb 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the electroclash 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young,
Arcadia,
Eli Mardock,
Black Sheep,
Faust,
The Moleskins,
The Mummies,
48th St. Collective,
Kenny Larkin,
Dark Day,
Au Pairs,
K-Klass,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Television,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sun City Girls,
Minnie Riperton,
Suicide,
Khruangbin,
Y Pants,
The Index,
Bill Near,
China Crisis,
Youth Brigade,
Dead Boys,
Crime,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Von Mondo,
Alice Coltrane,
Yazoo,
Marine Girls,
Blake Baxter,
Depeche Mode,
Severed Heads,
Erasure,
Roy Ayers,
Magma,
Jeff Lynne,
Pulsallama,
Kurtis Blow,
the Germs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Joe Smooth,
Gang Starr,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Accadde A,
Bobby Byrd,
E-Dancer,
Marshall Jefferson,
Skaos,
Black Pus,
Franke,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Inner City,
Idris Muhammad,
the Bar-Kays,
Motorama,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
T.S.O.L.,
The Buckinghams,
June of 44,
Sugar Minott,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.