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 Seychelles and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Buckinghams to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
DNA,
The Dave Clark Five,
John Holt,
Johnny Clarke,
Peter and Kerry,
Todd Rundgren,
Donny Hathaway,
Hardrive,
The Fortunes,
Man Parrish,
Tommy Roe,
Eurythmics,
The Monks,
The Tremeloes,
Joyce Sims,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ossler,
Marine Girls,
The Blackbyrds,
The Birthday Party,
Lyres,
Monolake,
Drive Like Jehu,
Angry Samoans,
Accadde A,
T.S.O.L.,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Sisters of Mercy,
John Cale,
Sound Behaviour,
Tom Boy,
Sun City Girls,
World's Most,
Quantec,
Joey Negro,
DJ Sneak,
Eric Copeland,
Minny Pops,
The Monochrome Set,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Grey Daturas,
Leonard Cohen,
Bobby Womack,
Minor Threat,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Gories,
Fat Boys,
Jawbox,
Hoover,
Procol Harum,
Smog,
Andrew Hill,
Simply Red,
The Vogues,
Skriet,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Move,
Althea and Donna,
The Fugs,
Moby Grape,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.