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 Argentina and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Lou Reed 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 Crash Course in Science to the rap 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
Moebius,
Max Romeo,
The Smiths,
Black Pus,
Slave,
Eddi Front,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Searchers,
Todd Terry,
Pere Ubu,
Hasil Adkins,
Fugazi,
Visage,
Kas Product,
UT,
Public Image Ltd.,
F. McDonald,
The Saints,
Throbbing Gristle,
This Heat,
Mars,
Jacob Miller,
R.M.O.,
The Doors,
Television Personalities,
Tim Buckley,
MDC,
Rotary Connection,
Judy Mowatt,
The Barracudas,
Mission of Burma,
Drexciya,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gang Green,
Moss Icon,
Bobby Byrd,
Cybotron,
Anthony Braxton,
The Fall,
La Düsseldorf,
Barrington Levy,
Joyce Sims,
Severed Heads,
Subhumans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Leonard Cohen,
Neu!,
Easy Going,
Bill Near,
Oblivians,
Peter & Gordon,
Davy DMX,
Desert Stars,
Tears for Fears,
The Zeros,
Index,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.