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 Czech Republic and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Woodstock.
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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 American Breed to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Quando Quango,
Blancmange,
Metal Thangz,
Leonard Cohen,
The Associates,
Bad Manners,
R.M.O.,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Barry Ungar,
Terry Callier,
Oblivians,
Wally Richardson,
Ronnie Foster,
Iggy Pop,
Underground Resistance,
Khruangbin,
Maurizio,
Make Up,
Sparks,
Cluster,
Harmonia,
Guru Guru,
Deadbeat,
The Star Department,
Rotary Connection,
Banda Bassotti,
Stereo Dub,
F. McDonald,
Aural Exciters,
The Fugs,
Erasure,
The Alarm Clocks,
Magma,
The Beau Brummels,
Essential Logic,
Bill Wells,
Minnie Riperton,
Derrick May,
John Cale,
Model 500,
CMW,
Junior Murvin,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rhythm & Sound,
Procol Harum,
The Invisible,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sugar Minott,
T. Rex,
The Music Machine,
Siglo XX,
Gichy Dan,
The Moody Blues,
The Selecter,
Blake Baxter,
The Sonics,
The Move,
Johnny Osbourne,
Loose Ends,
Hoover,
Lightning Bolt,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.