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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Fortunes to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Arcadia,
The Sound,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Oblivians,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Grauzone,
Pere Ubu,
Chris Corsano,
X-101,
Black Sheep,
Adolescents,
Barry Ungar,
The Beau Brummels,
FM Einheit,
Dead Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minor Threat,
Vainqueur,
Simply Red,
CMW,
Pulsallama,
James White and The Blacks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Unwound,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Young Rascals,
Bobby Byrd,
Sandy B,
Stetsasonic,
the Bar-Kays,
Lalo Schifrin,
Maurizio,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
E-Dancer,
Hardrive,
Underground Resistance,
Minutemen,
Stockholm Monsters,
Electric Prunes,
Harmonia,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Moby Grape,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rakim,
The Buckinghams,
Section 25,
The Knickerbockers,
Pylon,
China Crisis,
Cheater Slicks,
Desert Stars,
Alice Coltrane,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Skatalites,
Radiohead,
Slick Rick,
The Move,
Bauhaus,
Los Fastidios,
The Toasters,
Hot Snakes,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.