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 Slovenia and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Matthew Bourne to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Zeros. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
MC5,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dead Boys,
Chris Corsano,
Rakim,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bobby Byrd,
Tommy Roe,
Supertramp,
Flash Fearless,
Arthur Verocai,
Cymande,
Jeru the Damaja,
Symarip,
The Pretty Things,
The Doobie Brothers,
Laurel Aitken,
Eddi Front,
Tim Buckley,
Monks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
B.T. Express,
Neil Young,
Aloha Tigers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joe Smooth,
Pere Ubu,
Henry Cow,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Sonics,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gong,
Mantronix,
Boredoms,
The Fire Engines,
Max Romeo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Crooked Eye,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eve St. Jones,
LL Cool J,
The Beau Brummels,
Ralphi Rosario,
R.M.O.,
Easy Going,
The Divine Comedy,
The Barracudas,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Monolake,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
A Certain Ratio,
Eric Copeland,
Trumans Water,
Index,
the Sonics,
Chris & Cosey,
Reuben Wilson,
Banda Bassotti,
Quantec,
Hasil Adkins,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.