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 Costa Rica and from Lagos.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar 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 Kayak 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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon 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 a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suburban Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minor Threat,
Tommy Roe,
The Invisible,
The Remains,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Fire Engines,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Unwound,
10cc,
Slave,
Isaac Hayes,
X-102,
Janne Schatter,
Aswad,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bush Tetras,
Section 25,
R.M.O.,
Moebius,
Chris Corsano,
Neu!,
Harry Pussy,
Darondo,
The Blackbyrds,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Pop Group,
The Fall,
Joe Finger,
Ultra Naté,
The United States of America,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Barbara Tucker,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Divine Comedy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Michelle Simonal,
Todd Rundgren,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bobby Sherman,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Simply Red,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Q65,
Babytalk,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Man Eating Sloth,
kango's stein massive,
Piero Umiliani,
48th St. Collective,
Quantec,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Black Flag,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Modern Lovers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lungfish,
A Flock of Seagulls,
MC5,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.