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 Finland and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delta 5 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bauhaus,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Byrd,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dark Day,
The Martian,
Brick,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Siglo XX,
Intrusion,
Sparks,
Oneida,
Lungfish,
Fad Gadget,
Audionom,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sister Nancy,
Fugazi,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Selecter,
Los Fastidios,
Radio Birdman,
The Happenings,
Sarah Menescal,
Unrelated Segments,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lindisfarne,
Crime,
Sound Behaviour,
Carl Craig,
Liliput,
Maurizio,
Crash Course in Science,
Aloha Tigers,
Marc Almond,
Guru Guru,
John Holt,
The Blues Magoos,
Royal Trux,
Dave Gahan,
Aaron Thompson,
Metal Thangz,
Mo-Dettes,
The Real Kids,
Y Pants,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lalann,
Amazonics,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
New Order,
Black Bananas,
Donald Byrd,
The Searchers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Little Man,
Qualms,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.