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 Togo and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Steve Hackett to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Angry Samoans,
Lucky Dragons,
Icehouse,
the Soft Cell,
Wally Richardson,
Loose Ends,
Eli Mardock,
EPMD,
A Certain Ratio,
Mr. Review,
Wire,
Deepchord,
Howard Jones,
Gang Starr,
Country Teasers,
E-Dancer,
Slick Rick,
DJ Style,
Marshall Jefferson,
Clear Light,
UT,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fear,
Al Stewart,
The Alarm Clocks,
Symarip,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ohio Players,
Joy Division,
Royal Trux,
Todd Terry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bootsy Collins,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Walker Brothers,
Mo-Dettes,
Wolf Eyes,
Grey Daturas,
Archie Shepp,
Faust,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Whodini,
Essential Logic,
Bill Wells,
Terrestrial Tones,
Crash Course in Science,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pere Ubu,
John Lydon,
Davy DMX,
Interpol,
Stereo Dub,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Fania All-Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
The Music Machine,
Khruangbin,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.