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 Belgium and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the grime 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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All Shoche tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
the Slits,
Bang On A Can,
The Techniques,
Davy DMX,
Bill Wells,
The Divine Comedy,
Cluster,
Technova,
Sarah Menescal,
John Lydon,
Dave Gahan,
Faraquet,
The Cure,
Alphaville,
The Wake,
CMW,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Foxx,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The American Breed,
Malaria!,
Kool Moe Dee,
Loose Ends,
Ludus,
Chris Corsano,
The Young Rascals,
Dual Sessions,
Eden Ahbez,
Groovy Waters,
Robert Görl,
Qualms,
Kas Product,
The Gladiators,
Jandek,
Camouflage,
Television,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Carl Craig,
Absolute Body Control,
Skarface,
Quando Quango,
The Moleskins,
Gang Green,
Neil Young,
Lou Christie,
Monolake,
The Raincoats,
Section 25,
Jacob Miller,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rapeman,
T. Rex,
Zapp,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Funkadelic,
Kerri Chandler,
Godley & Creme,
Ten City,
Letta Mbulu,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.