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 Paraguay and from Lagos.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Normal 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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The United States of America,
Swans,
China Crisis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Hot Snakes,
Peter and Kerry,
Rotary Connection,
Wasted Youth,
Godley & Creme,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Last Poets,
Pantaleimon,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Martian,
Slave,
X-Ray Spex,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Stetsasonic,
Siglo XX,
Byron Stingily,
Adolescents,
The Index,
A Certain Ratio,
Lalann,
Surgeon,
ABC,
Fear,
Zero Boys,
Jacques Brel,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ossler,
Mary Jane Girls,
Black Pus,
Agitation Free,
Monolake,
Alice Coltrane,
Connie Case,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Motions,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gang of Four,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Josef K,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ituana,
Section 25,
Bizarre Inc.,
Scratch Acid,
Mission of Burma,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Leaves,
Marcia Griffiths,
Dawn Penn,
Gong,
H. Thieme,
Supertramp,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.