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 Azerbaijan and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 organ 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 Pussy Galore to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gong,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ten City,
Michelle Simonal,
Ultravox,
Stetsasonic,
Swell Maps,
Lightning Bolt,
Dawn Penn,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Evens,
Second Layer,
Alphaville,
John Holt,
Tears for Fears,
Kenny Larkin,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Maurizio,
Minnie Riperton,
The Cowsills,
Bill Near,
Theoretical Girls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Move,
Arab on Radar,
Thee Headcoats,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
48th St. Collective,
the Soft Cell,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Unwound,
The Tremeloes,
The Modern Lovers,
E-Dancer,
Smog,
Radiohead,
The Birthday Party,
Au Pairs,
The Skatalites,
Derrick May,
Marmalade,
Pharoah Sanders,
Monks,
Colin Newman,
Alton Ellis,
The Barracudas,
Aloha Tigers,
the Human League,
Harry Pussy,
the Bar-Kays,
Brothers Johnson,
New York Dolls,
the Germs,
Dark Day,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.