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 Australia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Lou Reed 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 Anakelly to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Colin Newman,
Black Pus,
Masters at Work,
Max Romeo,
The Mummies,
Trumans Water,
cv313,
Bluetip,
Ossler,
The Gories,
Soft Machine,
Y Pants,
Steve Hackett,
Crash Course in Science,
Alphaville,
Marc Almond,
Drexciya,
Warren Ellis,
Arcadia,
Altered Images,
Clear Light,
Rapeman,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bad Manners,
Bobby Byrd,
Scrapy,
X-101,
Kool Moe Dee,
Donald Byrd,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Pop Group,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
the Soft Cell,
Mark Hollis,
Gang Green,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sly & The Family Stone,
T. Rex,
Fad Gadget,
Electric Prunes,
Funky Four + One,
Rufus Thomas,
Bang On A Can,
Mars,
One Last Wish,
Television Personalities,
Todd Terry,
Carl Craig,
The Red Krayola,
The Real Kids,
Gil Scott Heron,
London Community Gospel Choir,
E-Dancer,
Simply Red,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pylon,
Black Moon,
Tim Buckley,
Marmalade,
Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart, Al Stewart.
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.