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 Lille.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Au Pairs to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
Franke,
In Retrospect,
Mad Mike,
This Heat,
Radio Birdman,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Dark Day,
Marc Almond,
Rites of Spring,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Minor Threat,
The Durutti Column,
Anakelly,
The Smiths,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Roger Hodgson,
H. Thieme,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cheater Slicks,
Alton Ellis,
Peter and Kerry,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
48th St. Collective,
The Monks,
The Kinks,
Tommy Roe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Absolute Body Control,
Soulsonic Force,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Byrd,
Big Daddy Kane,
10cc,
Kool Moe Dee,
Japan,
Kaleidoscope,
FM Einheit,
Soft Cell,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mandrill,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Happenings,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Remains,
Crime,
Massinfluence,
Cecil Taylor,
The United States of America,
Sex Pistols,
Marmalade,
Deepchord,
Interpol,
Ohio Players,
Aural Exciters,
Hardrive,
Arab on Radar,
Kenny Larkin,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Minnie Riperton,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Association,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.