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 Tuvalu and from Glasgow.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 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 Bluetip to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lou Christie,
The Vogues,
Tomorrow,
The Durutti Column,
Cameo,
X-Ray Spex,
Heaven 17,
The Busters,
Parry Music,
Matthew Halsall,
Bang On A Can,
Matthew Bourne,
Zapp,
Rosa Yemen,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Little Man,
Adolescents,
Harry Pussy,
Country Teasers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Slits,
Icehouse,
Ronan,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ken Boothe,
Make Up,
Symarip,
The Cramps,
Chris Corsano,
Accadde A,
Gang Green,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bluetip,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minny Pops,
Zero Boys,
Carl Craig,
Desert Stars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Count Five,
Oneida,
Pierre Henry,
Motorama,
The Offenders,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Arab on Radar,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultimate Spinach,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sight & Sound,
Theoretical Girls,
The Electric Prunes,
Rhythm & Sound,
Section 25,
48th St. Collective,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Sherman,
Tommy Roe,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.