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 Lebanon and from Toronto.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
The Monochrome Set,
The Leaves,
The Doobie Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Carl Craig,
Toni Rubio,
Eden Ahbez,
The Dirtbombs,
Pantytec,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
China Crisis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jerry's Kids,
The Associates,
Brand Nubian,
Godley & Creme,
Lucky Dragons,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Isaac Hayes,
the Bar-Kays,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jesper Dahlback,
Black Moon,
LL Cool J,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jacob Miller,
Bobby Byrd,
Porter Ricks,
Nils Olav,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
CMW,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pussy Galore,
The Wake,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Dead C,
Eurythmics,
Yazoo,
Alphaville,
Cluster,
Laurel Aitken,
Eddi Front,
Crime,
Hashim,
Duran Duran,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Average White Band,
Main Source,
John Lydon,
Kas Product,
Bob Dylan,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Beau Brummels,
Morten Harket,
The Standells,
Bad Manners,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.