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 Thailand and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 synthesizer 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Residents. All the underground hits.
All Yaz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Magma,
Minutemen,
Aloha Tigers,
Sexual Harrassment,
La Düsseldorf,
The Last Poets,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lalo Schifrin,
Arab on Radar,
Bluetip,
Danielle Patucci,
Hot Snakes,
K-Klass,
Scion,
Agitation Free,
Section 25,
Radiohead,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rhythm & Sound,
Donald Byrd,
Rufus Thomas,
Clear Light,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marcia Griffiths,
X-102,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sugar Minott,
Dave Gahan,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The J.B.'s,
Bill Wells,
Grey Daturas,
Cal Tjader,
Slick Rick,
The Cowsills,
Janne Schatter,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lower 48,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jawbox,
The Leaves,
Banda Bassotti,
Circle Jerks,
Dawn Penn,
Intrusion,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobby Sherman,
The New Christs,
Half Japanese,
The Monks,
Marmalade,
Jacob Miller,
Stockholm Monsters,
cv313,
Grauzone,
Fatback Band,
Morten Harket,
Piero Umiliani,
Sonny Sharrock,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.