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 India and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 Sexual Harrassment to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Jesus and Mary Chain record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Leonard Cohen,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jerry's Kids,
Colin Newman,
Rosa Yemen,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Popol Vuh,
John Holt,
Flamin' Groovies,
Boredoms,
The Raincoats,
Gang Gang Dance,
Darondo,
Public Enemy,
ABC,
Interpol,
The Toasters,
Nirvana,
The Cure,
Ornette Coleman,
Crispy Ambulance,
Echospace,
Boogie Down Productions,
Judy Mowatt,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scientists,
Albert Ayler,
The Black Dice,
John Foxx,
Idris Muhammad,
Sixth Finger,
Soft Machine,
Stiv Bators,
The Selecter,
Crash Course in Science,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
World's Most,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hardrive,
New York Dolls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
a-ha,
Liliput,
Gastr Del Sol,
Technova,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Standells,
the Association,
The Velvet Underground,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Marine Girls,
The Red Krayola,
Scratch Acid,
Nico,
Basic Channel,
Hot Snakes,
Brothers Johnson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.