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 Philippines and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 arpeggiator 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 Moby Grape to the techno 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Prince Buster,
Lakeside,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Magma,
Das Ding,
Bootsy Collins,
The Walker Brothers,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Skaos,
The Grass Roots,
The Associates,
Surgeon,
Zero Boys,
Black Moon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Radio Birdman,
The Mummies,
Inner City,
Oneida,
Depeche Mode,
Parry Music,
Bob Dylan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rod Modell,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
X-101,
Q and Not U,
Kaleidoscope,
Cluster,
Hot Snakes,
Deepchord,
Mo-Dettes,
Simply Red,
Alice Coltrane,
The Smiths,
The Human League,
The Litter,
Patti Smith,
the Swans,
Gichy Dan,
The Happenings,
Pere Ubu,
Peter & Gordon,
Brass Construction,
Flipper,
Pantaleimon,
Ten City,
Television Personalities,
Carl Craig,
Dennis Brown,
Bronski Beat,
Bobby Sherman,
The Zeros,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.