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 Guyana and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 synthesizer 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 The Dirtbombs to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gichy Dan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Patti Smith,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bush Tetras,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bluetip,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Names,
Vainqueur,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Chrome,
The Gories,
The Slits,
X-102,
Traffic Nightmare,
T.S.O.L.,
Spandau Ballet,
Television Personalities,
Pussy Galore,
The J.B.'s,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Swell Maps,
Saccharine Trust,
Dead Boys,
Surgeon,
Tim Buckley,
The Last Poets,
The Blackbyrds,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bobby Womack,
Agent Orange,
Curtis Mayfield,
Arcadia,
Cecil Taylor,
Severed Heads,
La Düsseldorf,
Flipper,
H. Thieme,
The Detroit Cobras,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The American Breed,
Slick Rick,
Marc Almond,
Graham Central Station,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joyce Sims,
Susan Cadogan,
Duran Duran,
Circle Jerks,
LL Cool J,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Walker Brothers,
Skriet,
Infiniti,
Ken Boothe,
Simply Red,
Procol Harum,
Goldenarms,
X-101,
Crime,
The Moleskins,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.