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 Japan and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Whodini to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Kayak,
Chris & Cosey,
Jawbox,
Nik Kershaw,
The Slackers,
Soft Cell,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Grauzone,
Das Ding,
R.M.O.,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
John Coltrane,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Crooked Eye,
Connie Case,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Music Machine,
Dawn Penn,
Stiv Bators,
Underground Resistance,
Carl Craig,
Throbbing Gristle,
This Heat,
Intrusion,
Flamin' Groovies,
Drexciya,
Peter and Kerry,
Maleditus Sound,
Amon Düül,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Moleskins,
F. McDonald,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nick Fraelich,
Television,
Surgeon,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Offenders,
Kerrie Biddell,
Chrome,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deepchord,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Byron Stingily,
Suburban Knight,
Wings,
The Black Dice,
Derrick May,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wally Richardson,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Selecter,
Section 25,
Shoche,
Toni Rubio,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Five Americans,
Mark Hollis,
Arab on Radar,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Vainqueur,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.