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 New Zealand and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Michelle Simonal to the rap 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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
The Fuzztones,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Trumans Water,
The Barracudas,
Deadbeat,
Terry Callier,
Be Bop Deluxe,
F. McDonald,
The Residents,
Michelle Simonal,
Oblivians,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Johnny Clarke,
Toni Rubio,
Bobby Byrd,
Nils Olav,
MDC,
Rufus Thomas,
Bronski Beat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Sound,
These Immortal Souls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Detroit Cobras,
Minor Threat,
kango's stein massive,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ken Boothe,
Young Marble Giants,
Second Layer,
Jacob Miller,
Newcleus,
Henry Cow,
Pierre Henry,
Donald Byrd,
Robert Görl,
Saccharine Trust,
Erasure,
Janne Schatter,
Arcadia,
Dead Boys,
Judy Mowatt,
The Seeds,
Todd Terry,
Mars,
The American Breed,
Connie Case,
La Düsseldorf,
Nirvana,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Thee Headcoats,
Dave Gahan,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sixth Finger,
The Kinks,
Index,
Pharoah Sanders,
Brass Construction,
The Electric Prunes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud, Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud.
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.