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 Benin and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Beijing.
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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ten City 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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Marine Girls,
Morten Harket,
Donald Byrd,
Bush Tetras,
The Cure,
Cheater Slicks,
Mark Hollis,
Kerrie Biddell,
Con Funk Shun,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Electric Prunes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eden Ahbez,
Bluetip,
Bootsy Collins,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Young Marble Giants,
Index,
Lindisfarne,
Neil Young,
Warren Ellis,
The Dirtbombs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Khruangbin,
Eurythmics,
Accadde A,
Jeff Mills,
A Certain Ratio,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Audionom,
The Names,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cybotron,
Josef K,
Roxy Music,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Intrusion,
The Raincoats,
Icehouse,
Supertramp,
Smog,
Flash Fearless,
Fear,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crash Course in Science,
Erasure,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Groovy Waters,
David McCallum,
Marvin Gaye,
Grauzone,
Nick Fraelich,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Camberwell Now,
Suicide,
Tres Demented,
Nas,
Japan,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.