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 Canada and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ 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 The Sisters of Mercy to the techno 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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Half Japanese,
Bronski Beat,
Nico,
The Names,
Pulsallama,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Das Ding,
The Grass Roots,
June of 44,
Japan,
Byron Stingily,
Lower 48,
Derrick May,
Bad Manners,
JFA,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ultravox,
Jesper Dahlback,
Althea and Donna,
Cameo,
Donald Byrd,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Rod Modell,
The Seeds,
Terrestrial Tones,
Don Cherry,
Joey Negro,
Johnny Clarke,
The Electric Prunes,
Mary Jane Girls,
T. Rex,
Camouflage,
Mars,
Kayak,
Arthur Verocai,
Cybotron,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Blossom Toes,
Sister Nancy,
Marc Almond,
Royal Trux,
Grey Daturas,
Oblivians,
The Zeros,
Josef K,
Sight & Sound,
Monks,
Janne Schatter,
The Young Rascals,
The Star Department,
The Raincoats,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Drexciya,
Ronnie Foster,
The Dirtbombs,
Gang Gang Dance,
Popol Vuh,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Unwound,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.