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 Portugal and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manchester.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Eric B and Rakim to the rock 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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
The Fire Engines,
Marshall Jefferson,
Technova,
Blake Baxter,
Laurel Aitken,
Funky Four + One,
Icehouse,
The Black Dice,
Crooked Eye,
Altered Images,
Reagan Youth,
Hardrive,
Das Ding,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Scientists,
JFA,
the Sonics,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Aloha Tigers,
Neil Young,
Ohio Players,
Buzzcocks,
Bauhaus,
John Lydon,
Iggy Pop,
Blancmange,
Fad Gadget,
kango's stein massive,
Intrusion,
June of 44,
Dennis Brown,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
T.S.O.L.,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fluxion,
Swans,
Max Romeo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bobby Byrd,
Chris Corsano,
Hasil Adkins,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Juan Atkins,
the Soft Cell,
Stetsasonic,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Womack,
Lakeside,
Clear Light,
The Cure,
AZ,
Rakim,
Make Up,
The Stooges,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
the Slits,
Q65,
Mark Hollis,
Pere Ubu,
New Order,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.