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 Saudi Arabia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Edmonton.
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 808 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 Arab on Radar to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a KRS-One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Depeche Mode,
The Cosmic Jokers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
David McCallum,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pantytec,
The Dave Clark Five,
Reagan Youth,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Darondo,
Monks,
Suicide,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Invisible,
Wally Richardson,
La Düsseldorf,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Sonics,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cameo,
The Golliwogs,
The Star Department,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Y Pants,
Harmonia,
Jeff Mills,
Fluxion,
The Mojo Men,
the Fania All-Stars,
Henry Cow,
Public Enemy,
Stetsasonic,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Yazoo,
Severed Heads,
John Foxx,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tubeway Army,
Joey Negro,
Gichy Dan,
The Last Poets,
Terrestrial Tones,
Black Pus,
Man Parrish,
The Neon Judgement,
Joyce Sims,
Shuggie Otis,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The New Christs,
The United States of America,
Au Pairs,
Talk Talk,
Scrapy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Camberwell Now,
Drive Like Jehu,
ABBA,
Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls.
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.