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 Papua New Guinea and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 sitar 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 Pussy Galore to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
Goldenarms,
Hasil Adkins,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mary Jane Girls,
Vladislav Delay,
The Dirtbombs,
The Blackbyrds,
Livin' Joy,
Half Japanese,
Aloha Tigers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Youth Brigade,
The Birthday Party,
Panda Bear,
Rakim,
Average White Band,
Laurel Aitken,
The Stooges,
Toni Rubio,
the Human League,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mo-Dettes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wire,
Ultravox,
Kerri Chandler,
David McCallum,
10cc,
Dark Day,
Bronski Beat,
Bill Wells,
Ronan,
T. Rex,
This Heat,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Litter,
Banda Bassotti,
The Selecter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
DNA,
The Cure,
Liliput,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Camberwell Now,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radiopuhelimet,
Guru Guru,
Roxette,
Cameo,
OOIOO,
Lungfish,
Mars,
The Mojo Men,
Roxy Music,
Stockholm Monsters,
Alton Ellis,
Swans,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Standells,
the Association,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.