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 France and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
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 guitar 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 The Slackers to the jazz 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Second Layer,
Lou Christie,
Infiniti,
The Skatalites,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Durutti Column,
Easy Going,
Connie Case,
Au Pairs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Freddie Wadling,
F. McDonald,
Liliput,
Organ,
Make Up,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Archie Shepp,
Public Enemy,
Robert Görl,
Susan Cadogan,
Reuben Wilson,
The Gap Band,
David McCallum,
Rotary Connection,
Cluster,
48th St. Collective,
Cymande,
Barrington Levy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Idris Muhammad,
Max Romeo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sandy B,
Arthur Verocai,
Judy Mowatt,
Morten Harket,
Los Fastidios,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Delta 5,
Soul II Soul,
Radiohead,
Groovy Waters,
The Modern Lovers,
Robert Wyatt,
Sight & Sound,
AZ,
Graham Central Station,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
EPMD,
Drive Like Jehu,
Blancmange,
The Pretty Things,
Siglo XX,
Wings,
Average White Band,
K-Klass,
Gichy Dan,
Sugar Minott,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.