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 Brazil and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Harry Pussy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delon & Dalcan,
John Foxx,
Johnny Clarke,
Pole,
Funkadelic,
Main Source,
Soft Cell,
Masters at Work,
Suburban Knight,
Cymande,
Cluster,
Depeche Mode,
Black Bananas,
the Germs,
Brothers Johnson,
The J.B.'s,
Howard Jones,
Mission of Burma,
Soft Machine,
Youth Brigade,
Symarip,
Shuggie Otis,
Warsaw,
Sex Pistols,
Make Up,
The Techniques,
R.M.O.,
The Barracudas,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
DNA,
Flamin' Groovies,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
kango's stein massive,
X-101,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Sonics,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Archie Shepp,
Sister Nancy,
Visage,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Deepchord,
EPMD,
Bronski Beat,
Au Pairs,
The Pretty Things,
the Association,
The Five Americans,
Dennis Brown,
Ronnie Foster,
The Names,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Slits,
Angry Samoans,
Letta Mbulu,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Susan Cadogan,
The Offenders,
The Sound,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.