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 Bahrain and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 synthesizer 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 China Crisis to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy Collins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare 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 mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Fire Engines,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Animal Collective,
Fatback Band,
Rekid,
Colin Newman,
Alton Ellis,
Sister Nancy,
Reuben Wilson,
The Monochrome Set,
Metal Thangz,
Funkadelic,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Y Pants,
Tom Boy,
Robert Hood,
Boredoms,
Brick,
Alice Coltrane,
The Electric Prunes,
Kurtis Blow,
Hot Snakes,
The Modern Lovers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Suicide,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
DNA,
Bill Wells,
Bad Manners,
Harpers Bizarre,
Brothers Johnson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Depeche Mode,
Mantronix,
The Motions,
Soft Machine,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Black Flag,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Make Up,
Model 500,
Skaos,
Loose Ends,
Nirvana,
Cecil Taylor,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rapeman,
Cluster,
The Names,
Henry Cow,
The Litter,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Peter & Gordon,
Monks,
Easy Going,
Porter Ricks,
Royal Trux,
One Last Wish,
Spandau Ballet,
Althea and Donna,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.