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 Uruguay and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 T. Rex to the grime 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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Walker Brothers,
Pylon,
Ronan,
DJ Sneak,
Supertramp,
Jesper Dahlback,
ABBA,
Todd Terry,
Organ,
the Germs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
CMW,
Model 500,
Bobby Sherman,
Sällskapet,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Wasted Youth,
The Martian,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Quando Quango,
Jimmy McGriff,
Zero Boys,
The Misunderstood,
the Sonics,
Drive Like Jehu,
Negative Approach,
Jeff Lynne,
Aswad,
Charles Mingus,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pulsallama,
the Soft Cell,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mad Mike,
Faust,
Sugar Minott,
Average White Band,
The Monochrome Set,
Brass Construction,
The Doors,
Lou Reed,
Ronnie Foster,
Terry Callier,
Jacques Brel,
Slave,
Boredoms,
the Bar-Kays,
The Cowsills,
Ten City,
Warren Ellis,
the Association,
Zapp,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
New Order,
Country Teasers,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.