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 Swaziland and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Freddie Wadling to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Toni Rubio. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Procol Harum,
The Fortunes,
Judy Mowatt,
T.S.O.L.,
DJ Style,
the Sonics,
DJ Sneak,
Lindisfarne,
Sight & Sound,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bad Manners,
Underground Resistance,
Yusef Lateef,
The Pretty Things,
Rufus Thomas,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang Green,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wasted Youth,
Swell Maps,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scrapy,
The Detroit Cobras,
Idris Muhammad,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Todd Terry,
Section 25,
Skriet,
Howard Jones,
Crash Course in Science,
Eve St. Jones,
Ronnie Foster,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Model 500,
Tropical Tobacco,
Malaria!,
Minutemen,
Lyres,
Slave,
Boredoms,
Negative Approach,
Shoche,
The Dead C,
The Blackbyrds,
Lower 48,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Boz Scaggs,
Sarah Menescal,
Bizarre Inc.,
Altered Images,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eric Copeland,
John Coltrane,
Glambeats Corp.,
Oblivians,
Thee Headcoats,
The Last Poets,
Trumans Water,
Ten City,
Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen.
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.