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 Papua New Guinea and from Houston.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Busters to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon 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?
Soul II Soul,
The Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
This Heat,
Yazoo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Roxy Music,
Lou Christie,
Young Marble Giants,
Ponytail,
Eurythmics,
The Motions,
the Normal,
Ronan,
Severed Heads,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bauhaus,
Joe Finger,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Smiths,
Nirvana,
Gang Starr,
The Smoke,
Fatback Band,
Supertramp,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Interpol,
Erykah Badu,
Clear Light,
Sonny Sharrock,
Swell Maps,
Eden Ahbez,
Das Ding,
Cameo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Sonics,
Underground Resistance,
Yaz,
The Slackers,
the Swans,
Wolf Eyes,
Freddie Wadling,
The Trojans,
The Residents,
Talk Talk,
FM Einheit,
Amon Düül,
Tres Demented,
Camberwell Now,
Prince Buster,
Rufus Thomas,
Cymande,
Barry Ungar,
Avey Tare,
Gil Scott Heron,
kango's stein massive,
Laurel Aitken,
Robert Wyatt,
The Leaves,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.