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 Swaziland and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Freddie Wadling to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Larry & the Blue Notes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Lebanon Hanover,
Kurtis Blow,
The Selecter,
Jacques Brel,
This Heat,
Thee Headcoats,
Country Teasers,
Lou Reed,
Man Parrish,
the Swans,
The Skatalites,
Matthew Halsall,
The Human League,
Prince Buster,
Guru Guru,
The Busters,
La Düsseldorf,
John Holt,
The Misunderstood,
New York Dolls,
The Zeros,
Connie Case,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Association,
B.T. Express,
the Bar-Kays,
Rotary Connection,
Niagra,
X-102,
Suicide,
The Monks,
The Buckinghams,
Harpers Bizarre,
Andrew Hill,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Skriet,
Grauzone,
Camberwell Now,
Nik Kershaw,
The Grass Roots,
Warsaw,
Pylon,
Hardrive,
Pussy Galore,
Minny Pops,
Cymande,
Index,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jerry's Kids,
Juan Atkins,
Joe Smooth,
The Sound,
the Slits,
Bob Dylan,
Khruangbin,
Black Pus,
Freddie Wadling,
PIL, PIL, PIL, PIL.
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.