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 Luxembourg and from Winnipeg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Blancmange to the jazz 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 Pulsallama. All the underground hits.
All The Residents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Velvet Underground,
Harry Pussy,
Chrome,
Glambeats Corp.,
Blake Baxter,
The Evens,
Pussy Galore,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Names,
Rakim,
Technova,
Crooked Eye,
Bad Manners,
Crash Course in Science,
Iggy Pop,
Depeche Mode,
Davy DMX,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Zero Boys,
PIL,
The Stooges,
The Slits,
The Slackers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tomorrow,
Sonny Sharrock,
Dave Gahan,
Brick,
Magazine,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Piero Umiliani,
Gichy Dan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lalann,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Isaac Hayes,
Minnie Riperton,
These Immortal Souls,
Ronnie Foster,
Audionom,
Jawbox,
Patti Smith,
Rod Modell,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ludus,
Y Pants,
Johnny Clarke,
Sexual Harrassment,
New Order,
Jerry's Kids,
Ornette Coleman,
The Mummies,
The Selecter,
Masters at Work,
John Foxx,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Throbbing Gristle,
Japan,
Ponytail,
Toni Rubio,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.