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 Belize and from Cairo.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pylon to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All The Tremeloes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
New Order,
Marvin Gaye,
Moss Icon,
The Gladiators,
Wally Richardson,
Minutemen,
China Crisis,
Crooked Eye,
Pylon,
Wire,
Procol Harum,
Morten Harket,
Bobby Sherman,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sex Pistols,
Johnny Clarke,
Joy Division,
Crash Course in Science,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Searchers,
Funkadelic,
The Skatalites,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gabor Szabo,
Tom Boy,
June of 44,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Echospace,
The Invisible,
The Index,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Leaves,
OOIOO,
The Selecter,
Outsiders,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lyres,
Deadbeat,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Radiopuhelimet,
K-Klass,
Parry Music,
Alphaville,
Bobby Byrd,
Jandek,
Rotary Connection,
Lightning Bolt,
One Last Wish,
D'Angelo,
Alton Ellis,
Jacques Brel,
Slick Rick,
Danielle Patucci,
Reuben Wilson,
Eric Dolphy,
The Pop Group,
Loose Ends,
The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans, The Trojans.
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.