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 Tajikistan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Ronnie Foster to the crunk 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 The Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
10cc,
Pylon,
Graham Central Station,
Trumans Water,
Rapeman,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lucky Dragons,
The Divine Comedy,
The Monochrome Set,
Sight & Sound,
Brass Construction,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Grey Daturas,
Charles Mingus,
Bizarre Inc.,
David Axelrod,
The Tremeloes,
The Dead C,
The Mummies,
Bobby Sherman,
Rekid,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Modern Lovers,
The Victims,
Black Sheep,
Pierre Henry,
The Human League,
Camouflage,
Erykah Badu,
Hasil Adkins,
Jacques Brel,
The Fall,
Andrew Hill,
Freddie Wadling,
The Standells,
Sonic Youth,
The Smiths,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Goldenarms,
OOIOO,
Flipper,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Yusef Lateef,
Yaz,
Panda Bear,
Suicide,
The Busters,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Associates,
Dennis Brown,
the Bar-Kays,
Main Source,
The Pretty Things,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Leonard Cohen,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jeff Mills,
The Cramps,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cameo,
Lindisfarne,
The Young Rascals,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.