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 Tunisia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 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 The Associates to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bizarre Inc.,
The Golliwogs,
Bobby Byrd,
The Martian,
The Flesh Eaters,
Hashim,
Howard Jones,
Gabor Szabo,
Index,
Stiv Bators,
ABC,
John Lydon,
Skarface,
The Cowsills,
Mantronix,
Infiniti,
Pagans,
Cheater Slicks,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Fall,
Jerry's Kids,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kerri Chandler,
The Dave Clark Five,
Isaac Hayes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Slits,
The Mighty Diamonds,
UT,
Hasil Adkins,
Scientists,
Cybotron,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Saccharine Trust,
The Cramps,
Darondo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Misunderstood,
Zero Boys,
Man Parrish,
Gang Gang Dance,
Echospace,
Buzzcocks,
Chrome,
The Smoke,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Blake Baxter,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cal Tjader,
Mo-Dettes,
KRS-One,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Slave,
The New Christs,
The Busters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Mojo Men,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.