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 Antigua and from Stockholm.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 clarinet 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 Flamin' Groovies to the jazz 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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
Fat Boys,
Pylon,
MDC,
Interpol,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Slits,
Ken Boothe,
Sällskapet,
Andrew Hill,
Radiohead,
Royal Trux,
The Barracudas,
Robert Görl,
Mission of Burma,
ABC,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Smiths,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Neon Judgement,
Black Bananas,
Angry Samoans,
The Human League,
Mr. Review,
Qualms,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang Green,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Zero Boys,
Alphaville,
Jeff Mills,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Grass Roots,
The Raincoats,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jeru the Damaja,
Soulsonic Force,
Faust,
Pere Ubu,
Tommy Roe,
Kerrie Biddell,
Prince Buster,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bad Manners,
Outsiders,
Bush Tetras,
Unrelated Segments,
Blossom Toes,
The Velvet Underground,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Goldenarms,
The Monks,
Cymande,
The Offenders,
Joe Finger,
Bob Dylan,
The J.B.'s,
Trumans Water,
The Tremeloes,
Accadde A,
Dennis Brown,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.