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 Monaco and from Manchester.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 rhodes 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Ossler,
Johnny Osbourne,
Graham Central Station,
Can,
the Slits,
Boogie Down Productions,
Barry Ungar,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eurythmics,
Mr. Review,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lyres,
Moby Grape,
Bobby Sherman,
Loose Ends,
Suburban Knight,
Funky Four + One,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gladiators,
Grey Daturas,
Y Pants,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mad Mike,
The Trojans,
Jeff Lynne,
Crash Course in Science,
John Lydon,
Underground Resistance,
the Bar-Kays,
Man Parrish,
Roxy Music,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Boz Scaggs,
Wings,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rapeman,
Severed Heads,
Barrington Levy,
The Martian,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Flag,
John Holt,
Camberwell Now,
Agent Orange,
Stiv Bators,
Marshall Jefferson,
Interpol,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eddi Front,
Grauzone,
Wasted Youth,
Jeff Mills,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eric Dolphy,
The Moody Blues,
Lou Reed,
Franke,
Iggy Pop,
Aswad,
Dual Sessions,
The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men.
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.