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 Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pagans to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Curtis Mayfield,
Vladislav Delay,
Moby Grape,
Vainqueur,
The Angels of Light,
Cymande,
The Monks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Alphaville,
Unwound,
Pantytec,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Gories,
The Fortunes,
Sam Rivers,
Gong,
June of 44,
ABBA,
Black Flag,
Sonic Youth,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Morten Harket,
Icehouse,
Sex Pistols,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Schoolly D,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ralphi Rosario,
John Lydon,
The Victims,
The Knickerbockers,
One Last Wish,
Bang On A Can,
Clear Light,
X-Ray Spex,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Real Kids,
The Litter,
The Smiths,
The Black Dice,
Roger Hodgson,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
8 Eyed Spy,
Underground Resistance,
Royal Trux,
The Beau Brummels,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sexual Harrassment,
Brick,
the Swans,
Cybotron,
The American Breed,
Mission of Burma,
Hardrive,
The Walker Brothers,
China Crisis,
Dead Boys,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.