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 United Kingdom and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 spring reverb 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 Guru Guru to the crunk 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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
The Standells,
Das Ding,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Cybotron,
Lindisfarne,
Mad Mike,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cluster,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Sonics,
Youth Brigade,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mission of Burma,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Whodini,
The Associates,
David McCallum,
X-102,
Popol Vuh,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Neil Young,
Fat Boys,
Dennis Brown,
Kenny Larkin,
Eli Mardock,
Motorama,
Patti Smith,
Althea and Donna,
Tim Buckley,
David Bowie,
The Walker Brothers,
Funkadelic,
Todd Terry,
Jeru the Damaja,
Liliput,
Mark Hollis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sun Ra,
The Fire Engines,
Can,
Joyce Sims,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bobby Sherman,
Laurel Aitken,
The Raincoats,
MC5,
Harpers Bizarre,
Guru Guru,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Clear Light,
The Barracudas,
Sällskapet,
Mars,
Faraquet,
Audionom,
John Holt,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Max Romeo,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.