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 Micronesia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 A Certain Ratio to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mummies,
R.M.O.,
Derrick May,
The Velvet Underground,
X-Ray Spex,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gastr Del Sol,
Heaven 17,
Man Parrish,
Fad Gadget,
Brass Construction,
Aaron Thompson,
Rekid,
China Crisis,
Section 25,
Bootsy Collins,
Scrapy,
Chris Corsano,
Letta Mbulu,
Mandrill,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Dennis Brown,
The Barracudas,
Marcia Griffiths,
Josef K,
Jeff Lynne,
Monolake,
DJ Sneak,
Popol Vuh,
Kurtis Blow,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Alarm Clocks,
Toni Rubio,
Gerry Rafferty,
Little Man,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Move,
Gang of Four,
Throbbing Gristle,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Byron Stingily,
The United States of America,
Slick Rick,
Magazine,
Absolute Body Control,
Sun Ra,
The Invisible,
Lou Reed,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kerri Chandler,
The Residents,
Ossler,
Supertramp,
the Human League,
Brand Nubian,
Urselle,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Fortunes,
Bronski Beat,
Zapp,
Pulsallama,
The Durutti Column,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.