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 Malaysia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Matthew Bourne to the techno 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 The Victims. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacob Miller 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Johnny Clarke,
MC5,
Deadbeat,
Parry Music,
Morten Harket,
Colin Newman,
Ludus,
Spandau Ballet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ultravox,
Electric Prunes,
Wire,
Crime,
Pagans,
Zero Boys,
Scientists,
Sam Rivers,
Susan Cadogan,
Nirvana,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Cowsills,
Mark Hollis,
David Axelrod,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tommy Roe,
Roy Ayers,
The Raincoats,
Franke,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Five Americans,
The Slits,
Index,
Fatback Band,
The Grass Roots,
The Fortunes,
The Standells,
Eyeless In Gaza,
ABC,
The Evens,
Audionom,
Eve St. Jones,
The Move,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Buzzcocks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Barry Ungar,
The Happenings,
Crash Course in Science,
Los Fastidios,
Quando Quango,
Marvin Gaye,
Aural Exciters,
Cheater Slicks,
Dark Day,
Mandrill,
Black Sheep,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eric Copeland,
Sällskapet,
Monks,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.