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 Kyrgyzstan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 clarinet 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 kango's stein massive to the dance 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 Roxette tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Con Funk Shun,
Gang of Four,
Bang On A Can,
Faust,
Franke,
Laurel Aitken,
The Zeros,
Scratch Acid,
Dual Sessions,
Make Up,
Oneida,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Charles Mingus,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Radio Birdman,
China Crisis,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Outsiders,
Derrick Morgan,
Tres Demented,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fatback Band,
Sugar Minott,
MC5,
The Selecter,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Q and Not U,
Von Mondo,
Interpol,
Au Pairs,
Quando Quango,
Surgeon,
Sun Ra,
Schoolly D,
T. Rex,
Donny Hathaway,
Eric B and Rakim,
Amon Düül II,
Ronnie Foster,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Beau Brummels,
Connie Case,
the Slits,
Bobby Byrd,
The Alarm Clocks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Urselle,
Tom Boy,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Neon Judgement,
F. McDonald,
The Knickerbockers,
Gichy Dan,
Magazine,
Joe Finger,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Martian,
Sexual Harrassment,
Crooked Eye,
The Fire Engines,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.