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 Uruguay and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and New York.
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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Scrapy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Goldenarms,
Nik Kershaw,
Trumans Water,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Liliput,
Pole,
Todd Terry,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sight & Sound,
The Real Kids,
Isaac Hayes,
New York Dolls,
Main Source,
Negative Approach,
B.T. Express,
Sarah Menescal,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Funkadelic,
The Tremeloes,
Jacob Miller,
James White and The Blacks,
Livin' Joy,
The Fortunes,
Suburban Knight,
Panda Bear,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Stooges,
Tres Demented,
Susan Cadogan,
The Gap Band,
ABBA,
Bob Dylan,
Section 25,
Lalo Schifrin,
Soft Machine,
John Holt,
Bang On A Can,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Excepter,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Loose Ends,
Max Romeo,
F. McDonald,
Harry Pussy,
Can,
The Selecter,
R.M.O.,
Echospace,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Human League,
The Busters,
Drexciya,
Model 500,
The Birthday Party,
Lou Reed,
Suicide,
The Moody Blues,
The Doors,
FM Einheit,
Faraquet,
Maleditus Sound,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.