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 Indonesia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ 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 The Count Five to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Todd Rundgren,
Moby Grape,
New York Dolls,
Grey Daturas,
Jimmy McGriff,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Au Pairs,
The Velvet Underground,
Mars,
KRS-One,
Pulsallama,
Spandau Ballet,
Organ,
June Days,
Brick,
Man Eating Sloth,
Metal Thangz,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
48th St. Collective,
Cymande,
The Motions,
The Angels of Light,
Simply Red,
Ultra Naté,
David Axelrod,
Brothers Johnson,
Davy DMX,
Roxette,
The Music Machine,
Trumans Water,
The Cramps,
AZ,
Rapeman,
Traffic Nightmare,
Circle Jerks,
The Buckinghams,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
One Last Wish,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jawbox,
Flipper,
Dead Boys,
Sandy B,
Loose Ends,
Motorama,
Subhumans,
Groovy Waters,
Ronnie Foster,
ABC,
Flash Fearless,
Curtis Mayfield,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tim Buckley,
Babytalk,
The Victims,
Kenny Larkin,
Janne Schatter,
Frankie Knuckles,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.