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 Finland and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
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 spring reverb 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 Wolf Eyes to the crunk 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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Rotary Connection tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Copeland record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dave Clark Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Tubeway Army,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ornette Coleman,
Scientists,
The Searchers,
Lower 48,
Girls At Our Best!,
Masters at Work,
Anthony Braxton,
Suicide,
Tim Buckley,
ABC,
Quadrant,
The Associates,
Eve St. Jones,
Khruangbin,
Bauhaus,
Patti Smith,
the Germs,
Michelle Simonal,
Joe Finger,
AZ,
8 Eyed Spy,
Thompson Twins,
The Martian,
Quantec,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Birthday Party,
Robert Wyatt,
Soft Machine,
FM Einheit,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wally Richardson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nils Olav,
Maurizio,
Black Sheep,
Cal Tjader,
Vainqueur,
Underground Resistance,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Human League,
John Coltrane,
Peter and Kerry,
The Pop Group,
Clear Light,
Sällskapet,
Q and Not U,
Godley & Creme,
Intrusion,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Mummies,
Iggy Pop,
Flipper,
Shoche,
Stereo Dub,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dennis Brown,
Minor Threat,
Lou Christie,
Basic Channel,
Rosa Yemen,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.