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 Uruguay and from Salvador.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 X-101 to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
Kerri Chandler,
Television Personalities,
The Smiths,
Organ,
Joe Finger,
The Happenings,
Black Flag,
X-101,
New York Dolls,
Slave,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Selecter,
Bill Near,
The Names,
The Pretty Things,
Nik Kershaw,
Circle Jerks,
Spandau Ballet,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Blancmange,
Scrapy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Unwound,
The Divine Comedy,
Bang On A Can,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
CMW,
Harry Pussy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
New Order,
Masters at Work,
Graham Central Station,
Scratch Acid,
Tomorrow,
Rosa Yemen,
Pantytec,
Fela Kuti,
The Saints,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ronnie Foster,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Germs,
T.S.O.L.,
Steve Hackett,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Hasil Adkins,
Tom Boy,
Bad Manners,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mark Hollis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Panda Bear,
Con Funk Shun,
Charles Mingus,
Smog,
KRS-One,
MDC,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.