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 Samoa and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Birthday Party to the crunk 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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Man Parrish,
Dawn Penn,
Motorama,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Royal Trux,
Arcadia,
Soulsonic Force,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kas Product,
June Days,
Ultravox,
The Human League,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gong,
Surgeon,
Michelle Simonal,
the Germs,
Bobby Byrd,
Y Pants,
Brand Nubian,
Tom Boy,
Banda Bassotti,
EPMD,
The Smiths,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Smog,
Vladislav Delay,
Aloha Tigers,
Bad Manners,
Ken Boothe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Easy Going,
Donny Hathaway,
Piero Umiliani,
In Retrospect,
Sun City Girls,
Colin Newman,
Minny Pops,
Kurtis Blow,
Swans,
The Knickerbockers,
Monks,
Eve St. Jones,
Jeru the Damaja,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Marc Almond,
Throbbing Gristle,
Glenn Branca,
B.T. Express,
Public Enemy,
The Beau Brummels,
Robert Görl,
Lebanon Hanover,
Suburban Knight,
Bizarre Inc.,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.