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 Honduras and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Metal Thangz 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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Sugar Minott,
Darondo,
Wasted Youth,
Morten Harket,
Basic Channel,
Erasure,
Infiniti,
Dawn Penn,
The Trojans,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Eddi Front,
Scientists,
Glambeats Corp.,
K-Klass,
June of 44,
The Victims,
Little Man,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rosa Yemen,
Kaleidoscope,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Raincoats,
Tres Demented,
The Electric Prunes,
Dave Gahan,
Nas,
Mandrill,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Knickerbockers,
Mo-Dettes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Searchers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Dennis Brown,
Khruangbin,
Index,
The Dead C,
Desert Stars,
Donny Hathaway,
Arcadia,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Cramps,
DJ Sneak,
John Coltrane,
The Divine Comedy,
The Golliwogs,
Scratch Acid,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
Gang Starr,
Essential Logic,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Masters at Work,
Pantytec,
Sun City Girls,
Harmonia,
The Leaves,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.