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 Saudi Arabia and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Radio Birdman to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Order record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
The Cure,
Accadde A,
Joyce Sims,
Barbara Tucker,
Excepter,
Swans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
10cc,
Gang Green,
R.M.O.,
Danielle Patucci,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Franke,
Henry Cow,
One Last Wish,
Robert Wyatt,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eric Copeland,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marc Almond,
Archie Shepp,
Lalo Schifrin,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rufus Thomas,
Amon Düül,
Roy Ayers,
The Durutti Column,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Duran Duran,
Harry Pussy,
Fad Gadget,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gabor Szabo,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Cymande,
Eden Ahbez,
Piero Umiliani,
Man Eating Sloth,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Cybotron,
John Cale,
John Foxx,
Chrome,
David Bowie,
Interpol,
Dorothy Ashby,
Main Source,
Metal Thangz,
The Five Americans,
the Slits,
Johnny Osbourne,
The American Breed,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gerry Rafferty,
Donny Hathaway,
Brothers Johnson,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Association,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth.
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.