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 Ireland and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 sitar 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 Marcia Griffiths to the electroclash 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 Adolescents. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff 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 punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Connie Case,
Gang Green,
Minnie Riperton,
The Durutti Column,
Smog,
Erykah Badu,
Adolescents,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eve St. Jones,
Ornette Coleman,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Barry Ungar,
Bronski Beat,
Y Pants,
KRS-One,
Mantronix,
Mandrill,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Popol Vuh,
The Gladiators,
The Music Machine,
Alphaville,
Todd Rundgren,
The Wake,
The Motions,
The Move,
Masters at Work,
Bobby Sherman,
Faust,
Rakim,
Metal Thangz,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bootsy Collins,
Unwound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
New Order,
Lindisfarne,
Interpol,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cecil Taylor,
Marvin Gaye,
Siglo XX,
Nik Kershaw,
Jeff Lynne,
Rekid,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Silicon Teens,
Rapeman,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Thee Headcoats,
Marine Girls,
Pagans,
Bauhaus,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Fortunes,
Albert Ayler,
Essential Logic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ponytail,
Khruangbin,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.