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 Belize and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
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 mellotron 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Josef K,
Ten City,
Skarface,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
the Association,
Barrington Levy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Duran Duran,
The Buckinghams,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Moody Blues,
Slave,
Ice-T,
Kurtis Blow,
Byron Stingily,
Jimmy McGriff,
Das Ding,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scientists,
The Names,
Funkadelic,
Bush Tetras,
Section 25,
Harry Pussy,
The Divine Comedy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cecil Taylor,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
D'Angelo,
Clear Light,
The Doobie Brothers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Moss Icon,
Guru Guru,
Mr. Review,
The Slackers,
Shuggie Otis,
Roxette,
The Pretty Things,
Boredoms,
Lakeside,
Von Mondo,
Sight & Sound,
Susan Cadogan,
The Vogues,
Jandek,
Pussy Galore,
48th St. Collective,
Scratch Acid,
The Tremeloes,
Henry Cow,
Barry Ungar,
The Birthday Party,
Alice Coltrane,
Joyce Sims,
Dead Boys,
Masters at Work,
Second Layer,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.