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 Cape Verde and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 mellotron 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 Mars to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
The Dirtbombs,
Khruangbin,
New Age Steppers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Infiniti,
the Normal,
Bill Wells,
DNA,
Grey Daturas,
Aural Exciters,
Tears for Fears,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Duran Duran,
The Evens,
Gabor Szabo,
Circle Jerks,
Fela Kuti,
Arthur Verocai,
Drexciya,
The Smoke,
K-Klass,
Black Sheep,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Germs,
X-Ray Spex,
Severed Heads,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Birthday Party,
The Fortunes,
Delta 5,
Spoonie Gee,
June Days,
Das Ding,
MC5,
Kayak,
Joensuu 1685,
Main Source,
Eve St. Jones,
Sugar Minott,
Todd Rundgren,
Altered Images,
Minor Threat,
Lakeside,
Talk Talk,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Move,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Blackbyrds,
The Residents,
Jeff Lynne,
Cameo,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Fire Engines,
Con Funk Shun,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
La Düsseldorf,
Nas,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.