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 Maldives and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Alton Ellis 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Simply Red,
Arthur Verocai,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sister Nancy,
Parry Music,
Section 25,
Connie Case,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tomorrow,
Maleditus Sound,
Brothers Johnson,
Wolf Eyes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sonny Sharrock,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joe Finger,
Harry Pussy,
Con Funk Shun,
Nirvana,
Patti Smith,
Idris Muhammad,
the Germs,
Amon Düül II,
The Saints,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sun City Girls,
Radio Birdman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Aural Exciters,
Janne Schatter,
X-102,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Warren Ellis,
Pole,
B.T. Express,
The New Christs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Selecter,
Drexciya,
Roxette,
Yazoo,
The Martian,
Siglo XX,
The Fugs,
The Cowsills,
Lalann,
Infiniti,
James White and The Blacks,
Surgeon,
KRS-One,
Mr. Review,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Audionom,
The Trojans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Malaria!,
Lightning Bolt,
Cluster,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Camouflage,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.