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 Malta and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Spandau Ballet to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monochrome Set record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skaos,
Porter Ricks,
Minor Threat,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Public Image Ltd.,
Cheater Slicks,
Jacob Miller,
Colin Newman,
Grauzone,
Radio Birdman,
The Cowsills,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Doors,
Howard Jones,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bill Wells,
Sarah Menescal,
June Days,
Kayak,
Cecil Taylor,
Hasil Adkins,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jawbox,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bob Dylan,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Modern Lovers,
Jacques Brel,
Black Bananas,
the Bar-Kays,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ultravox,
Schoolly D,
Rufus Thomas,
Supertramp,
the Germs,
PIL,
Gabor Szabo,
Reuben Wilson,
The Red Krayola,
Mantronix,
The Index,
Ice-T,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Human League,
The Zeros,
Blake Baxter,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Flamin' Groovies,
Technova,
The Durutti Column,
Lee Hazlewood,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Nik Kershaw,
Dead Boys,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Radiopuhelimet,
Don Cherry,
Rites of Spring,
Lyres,
The Names,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.