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 Solomon Islands and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Kenny Larkin to the rap 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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a cv313 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
Nik Kershaw,
Siglo XX,
the Sonics,
Darondo,
The Fortunes,
Eve St. Jones,
Al Stewart,
Stiv Bators,
Sonic Youth,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Monolake,
Oneida,
John Lydon,
Delon & Dalcan,
Charles Mingus,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Whodini,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lungfish,
The Birthday Party,
Urselle,
Pere Ubu,
Joe Finger,
Gang Starr,
Shuggie Otis,
Ken Boothe,
Goldenarms,
Babytalk,
Minutemen,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Inner City,
Stereo Dub,
Visage,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobby Byrd,
The Modern Lovers,
Fatback Band,
Unrelated Segments,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bootsy Collins,
Khruangbin,
Maurizio,
10cc,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Altered Images,
Guru Guru,
The Neon Judgement,
Sandy B,
Arab on Radar,
The Five Americans,
Harmonia,
Skarface,
Organ,
The Martian,
Cybotron,
Parry Music,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.