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 the UAE and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 a-ha to the electroclash 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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Steve Hackett,
Althea and Donna,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Isaac Hayes,
Ten City,
Gang of Four,
Shuggie Otis,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Fugs,
Lakeside,
EPMD,
Hashim,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gun Club,
Absolute Body Control,
Eddi Front,
Bob Dylan,
Radio Birdman,
Girls At Our Best!,
Grey Daturas,
Jesper Dahlback,
Fugazi,
Brick,
Fluxion,
Barry Ungar,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ponytail,
Black Pus,
The Beau Brummels,
Procol Harum,
Loose Ends,
La Düsseldorf,
the Germs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rhythm & Sound,
David Axelrod,
Excepter,
Brothers Johnson,
Oneida,
The Raincoats,
Swell Maps,
Toni Rubio,
Angry Samoans,
Traffic Nightmare,
Severed Heads,
Brass Construction,
The Zeros,
Simply Red,
PIL,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lou Christie,
The Fall,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Fania All-Stars,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.