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 Bahamas and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the 808 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 The Durutti Column to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
R.M.O.,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Residents,
Minnie Riperton,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Janne Schatter,
Suicide,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sixth Finger,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gastr Del Sol,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Beau Brummels,
Tim Buckley,
Anakelly,
Lebanon Hanover,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Amon Düül II,
Liliput,
Pantaleimon,
Youth Brigade,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eden Ahbez,
Iggy Pop,
48th St. Collective,
Bauhaus,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bobbi Humphrey,
OOIOO,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Animal Collective,
Dennis Brown,
Minny Pops,
Tears for Fears,
Flamin' Groovies,
Excepter,
Blossom Toes,
Gil Scott Heron,
New Age Steppers,
Godley & Creme,
X-102,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Qualms,
Lungfish,
The Raincoats,
Angry Samoans,
Bronski Beat,
Mark Hollis,
Public Enemy,
This Heat,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Five Americans,
Quadrant,
Guru Guru,
Los Fastidios,
Surgeon,
The Real Kids,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Martian,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.