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 Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ultravox to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade 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 jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Buckinghams,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pulsallama,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Simply Red,
Gang Starr,
Nico,
The Slits,
T. Rex,
The Misunderstood,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
David Axelrod,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eddi Front,
Joey Negro,
Blancmange,
The Dirtbombs,
The Zeros,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fela Kuti,
Grauzone,
ABBA,
DNA,
The Smoke,
Laurel Aitken,
Ronnie Foster,
Ultra Naté,
The Associates,
The Seeds,
The Kinks,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Wake,
Sex Pistols,
X-Ray Spex,
The Young Rascals,
MDC,
The New Christs,
The Stooges,
Anthony Braxton,
Archie Shepp,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Mojo Men,
The Fugs,
F. McDonald,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Accadde A,
AZ,
Television Personalities,
Sonic Youth,
B.T. Express,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eric Copeland,
Minnie Riperton,
Yellowson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Severed Heads,
Donald Byrd,
OOIOO,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.