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 Suriname and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 spring reverb 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 Bad Manners to the punk 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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum 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 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Boz Scaggs,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Smoke,
The Busters,
Toni Rubio,
the Fania All-Stars,
In Retrospect,
Lightning Bolt,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Selecter,
The Slits,
Glenn Branca,
Scott Walker,
David Axelrod,
Nils Olav,
Drive Like Jehu,
Funky Four + One,
The Pretty Things,
Nation of Ulysses,
Deepchord,
Camberwell Now,
Todd Rundgren,
The Real Kids,
Parry Music,
Gastr Del Sol,
Slave,
The Last Poets,
cv313,
Symarip,
Howard Jones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Crooked Eye,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Godley & Creme,
Kool Moe Dee,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Q65,
The Mummies,
X-102,
Mandrill,
Magma,
Bang On A Can,
Bronski Beat,
Vainqueur,
Inner City,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Searchers,
Bobby Sherman,
The Fire Engines,
Second Layer,
Gichy Dan,
Barbara Tucker,
Radiopuhelimet,
Isaac Hayes,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brick,
Traffic Nightmare,
New Order,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Moody Blues,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.