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 Mexico and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Bronski Beat to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Joe Smooth,
Fat Boys,
Sandy B,
Todd Terry,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wolf Eyes,
The Searchers,
Judy Mowatt,
The Knickerbockers,
The Fall,
Agent Orange,
John Holt,
U.S. Maple,
Loose Ends,
The Litter,
Shoche,
Ituana,
The Motions,
Bush Tetras,
Crime,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Moody Blues,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tomorrow,
Sparks,
Avey Tare,
B.T. Express,
Soul Sonic Force,
kango's stein massive,
The Victims,
Susan Cadogan,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Moleskins,
Ultravox,
Motorama,
Tim Buckley,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
MC5,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Smoke,
The Golliwogs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Arthur Verocai,
Arab on Radar,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Flash Fearless,
Henry Cow,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Real Kids,
Michelle Simonal,
John Cale,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jawbox,
Bob Dylan,
Roxy Music,
Lindisfarne,
Yusef Lateef,
Skriet,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Minor Threat,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.