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 Gambia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 808 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 PIL to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Royal Trux,
Desert Stars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Letta Mbulu,
The Trojans,
Kayak,
Bobby Womack,
The Detroit Cobras,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Alison Limerick,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Erasure,
The Blues Magoos,
Goldenarms,
Moby Grape,
Kas Product,
Popol Vuh,
David Bowie,
Rapeman,
Mark Hollis,
The American Breed,
Circle Jerks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eden Ahbez,
Wally Richardson,
Subhumans,
Tim Buckley,
Livin' Joy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Slits,
Gang of Four,
The Sonics,
Godley & Creme,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Au Pairs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Siglo XX,
Michelle Simonal,
Toni Rubio,
Pere Ubu,
Pantytec,
Bush Tetras,
Camberwell Now,
Fluxion,
ABC,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Young Marble Giants,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Grey Daturas,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sonic Youth,
Darondo,
The Smoke,
The Zeros,
Moebius,
Chrome,
The Searchers,
L. Decosne,
UT,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.