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 New Zealand and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 guitar 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 The Toasters to the crunk 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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
June Days,
Lightning Bolt,
Marc Almond,
Malaria!,
Adolescents,
The Knickerbockers,
Carl Craig,
These Immortal Souls,
K-Klass,
the Sonics,
Livin' Joy,
Flash Fearless,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Scientists,
The Birthday Party,
The Doors,
Thee Headcoats,
The Golliwogs,
Johnny Clarke,
Tears for Fears,
Howard Jones,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Moon,
Deepchord,
Cameo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Grauzone,
The Beau Brummels,
Metal Thangz,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Spandau Ballet,
Q and Not U,
Sexual Harrassment,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Hoover,
Susan Cadogan,
Byron Stingily,
The Remains,
Pylon,
Gang Starr,
Drive Like Jehu,
Minutemen,
Absolute Body Control,
Organ,
Radio Birdman,
Gichy Dan,
Danielle Patucci,
Bobby Sherman,
Stetsasonic,
Idris Muhammad,
Joey Negro,
Soulsonic Force,
Robert Wyatt,
Swell Maps,
Sonic Youth,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Supertramp,
DJ Style,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Gary Puckett & The Union Gap.
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.