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 United Kingdom and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 arpeggiator 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 Mr. Review to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camberwell Now record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
EPMD,
Spandau Ballet,
Magma,
Bush Tetras,
Dark Day,
Ossler,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Howard Jones,
The Monochrome Set,
Jesper Dahlback,
Johnny Clarke,
Joey Negro,
The Electric Prunes,
The Names,
Sex Pistols,
Swans,
The Victims,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Gap Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
ABBA,
Pagans,
David McCallum,
Sonic Youth,
Bill Wells,
Negative Approach,
The Buckinghams,
Saccharine Trust,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Crooked Eye,
K-Klass,
Agent Orange,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Godley & Creme,
China Crisis,
Neil Young,
Lungfish,
Funkadelic,
Quando Quango,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Skriet,
Cymande,
Grey Daturas,
Altered Images,
The Modern Lovers,
The Knickerbockers,
The Black Dice,
Hardrive,
L. Decosne,
Peter & Gordon,
Moby Grape,
Monks,
Japan,
Panda Bear,
Mr. Review,
The Gories,
Pulsallama,
Chrome,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.