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 Iran and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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-102 to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Unwound,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eric B and Rakim,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
T.S.O.L.,
Simply Red,
The Monks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Crooked Eye,
Slave,
The Velvet Underground,
Black Sheep,
The Sonics,
Oblivians,
The Grass Roots,
Underground Resistance,
Minnie Riperton,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Hasil Adkins,
The Five Americans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bob Dylan,
Animal Collective,
Hashim,
The Moody Blues,
Severed Heads,
The Red Krayola,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gang Green,
Amon Düül,
Slick Rick,
The Real Kids,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Happenings,
Dawn Penn,
La Düsseldorf,
Eric Dolphy,
Barry Ungar,
the Bar-Kays,
Wally Richardson,
Neu!,
Tomorrow,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Charles Mingus,
The Seeds,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Roy Ayers,
Brass Construction,
Funkadelic,
Pantytec,
Tom Boy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joey Negro,
Angry Samoans,
Marc Almond,
Soft Machine,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pagans,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.