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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Eurythmics to the techno 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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Public Image Ltd.,
Marmalade,
Ultra Naté,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tears for Fears,
Lungfish,
Avey Tare,
Sparks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Warsaw,
Faraquet,
The United States of America,
The Gladiators,
Dorothy Ashby,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Seeds,
Wire,
Neu!,
The Fire Engines,
A Certain Ratio,
Make Up,
Lindisfarne,
Heaven 17,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Warren Ellis,
The Slits,
Crash Course in Science,
U.S. Maple,
Junior Murvin,
Deepchord,
E-Dancer,
Bad Manners,
Mad Mike,
Pylon,
Black Bananas,
the Fania All-Stars,
Todd Rundgren,
Scientists,
Morten Harket,
Grauzone,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Metal Thangz,
Wally Richardson,
Harmonia,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Durutti Column,
Althea and Donna,
China Crisis,
John Cale,
Jimmy McGriff,
Q and Not U,
Lou Christie,
Flash Fearless,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Move,
Erasure,
The Smiths,
Aural Exciters,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.