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 Cape Verde and from Salvador.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 David Bowie 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 The Knickerbockers to the disco 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 Peter and Kerry. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lakeside 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 marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Suicide,
Derrick May,
Au Pairs,
Ituana,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Fugs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ornette Coleman,
Bang On A Can,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
This Heat,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Slits,
Thompson Twins,
Cecil Taylor,
The Doobie Brothers,
B.T. Express,
The Beau Brummels,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cluster,
Index,
John Holt,
Steve Hackett,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Man Parrish,
Kenny Larkin,
Newcleus,
X-101,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tres Demented,
Freddie Wadling,
Con Funk Shun,
Skaos,
Funkadelic,
ABC,
Janne Schatter,
PIL,
James White and The Blacks,
Minny Pops,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Scion,
Frankie Knuckles,
Judy Mowatt,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fear,
Tropical Tobacco,
Hoover,
Eddi Front,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Barry Ungar,
Ronnie Foster,
Average White Band,
the Association,
Minutemen,
Faraquet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Music Machine,
Cheater Slicks,
Eve St. Jones,
The Sonics,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.