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 Slovakia and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Paris.
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 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 Robert Palmer 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 Cure to the rap 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 Easy Going. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Marmalade,
Cameo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Associates,
Gichy Dan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Freddie Wadling,
Sonny Sharrock,
Qualms,
Tom Boy,
UT,
The Trojans,
Nils Olav,
ABC,
Sällskapet,
The Sisters of Mercy,
X-Ray Spex,
The Moleskins,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sixth Finger,
48th St. Collective,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dead C,
B.T. Express,
Neu!,
Peter & Gordon,
Television,
Eurythmics,
Sun City Girls,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bronski Beat,
China Crisis,
a-ha,
Don Cherry,
E-Dancer,
Barbara Tucker,
Hardrive,
Alison Limerick,
The Fugs,
Aaron Thompson,
Carl Craig,
Toni Rubio,
Smog,
Inner City,
This Heat,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rites of Spring,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scratch Acid,
Rufus Thomas,
X-102,
Roxy Music,
Derrick May,
Lyres,
Boogie Down Productions,
Vladislav Delay,
Talk Talk,
Mad Mike,
Electric Prunes,
The J.B.'s,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.