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 Czech Republic and from Milan.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Jacob Miller to the punk 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roger Hodgson,
The Modern Lovers,
John Lydon,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lou Christie,
The Grass Roots,
LL Cool J,
Lucky Dragons,
Kool Moe Dee,
Flipper,
Barry Ungar,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
This Heat,
Mission of Burma,
Sun City Girls,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Laurel Aitken,
Panda Bear,
Kayak,
Cymande,
Cal Tjader,
the Germs,
Neil Young,
Bill Wells,
Ultravox,
a-ha,
Visage,
David Bowie,
Robert Görl,
Mark Hollis,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Joe Finger,
Black Sheep,
Soul II Soul,
The Blues Magoos,
Warsaw,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Stooges,
Wasted Youth,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rhythm & Sound,
Gichy Dan,
The Smoke,
Alison Limerick,
Youth Brigade,
Roxy Music,
The Real Kids,
The Residents,
Ten City,
Bob Dylan,
Flash Fearless,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Alphaville,
Technova,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Deakin,
Quantec,
Tres Demented,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.