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 Korea North and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 marimba 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 Dead Boys to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All Goldenarms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Sheep,
Neu!,
Boz Scaggs,
The Golliwogs,
Make Up,
The Smoke,
Young Marble Giants,
Inner City,
U.S. Maple,
The Mojo Men,
Scratch Acid,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Soulsonic Force,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scott Walker,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bauhaus,
Niagra,
Arab on Radar,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jacques Brel,
Desert Stars,
Sandy B,
The Techniques,
The Divine Comedy,
DJ Sneak,
Cheater Slicks,
Man Parrish,
E-Dancer,
Joe Finger,
The Smiths,
Mantronix,
The Young Rascals,
The Gap Band,
Altered Images,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Last Poets,
The Slackers,
ABBA,
Silicon Teens,
Throbbing Gristle,
Robert Görl,
Dennis Brown,
Aaron Thompson,
Clear Light,
Patti Smith,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tubeway Army,
Radiopuhelimet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sound Behaviour,
Absolute Body Control,
Gang Gang Dance,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Adolescents,
the Slits,
The Count Five,
Swell Maps,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.