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 Germany and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 oboe 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 Soulsonic Force to the rock 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ultra Naté,
The Motions,
Cybotron,
The Grass Roots,
The Neon Judgement,
Dead Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eric Dolphy,
Smog,
Lungfish,
Harpers Bizarre,
Anakelly,
Eden Ahbez,
The Fortunes,
Joy Division,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Soft Cell,
KRS-One,
Scrapy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Gun Club,
Symarip,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fuzztones,
Young Marble Giants,
Bob Dylan,
Nico,
The Slackers,
the Swans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Unwound,
Can,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Scratch Acid,
Danielle Patucci,
Tears for Fears,
Monks,
MC5,
Ten City,
Organ,
Jeff Lynne,
Fad Gadget,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Happenings,
Maurizio,
Funkadelic,
Crime,
The Techniques,
Tim Buckley,
Carl Craig,
Chris & Cosey,
Davy DMX,
Anthony Braxton,
Pantaleimon,
June of 44,
The United States of America,
Duran Duran,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Roy Ayers,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.