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 China and from Mexico City.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the grunge 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Accadde A,
Eric Dolphy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
MC5,
The Star Department,
Brand Nubian,
ABBA,
Radio Birdman,
The Smoke,
Public Enemy,
Kenny Larkin,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Black Dice,
The Walker Brothers,
U.S. Maple,
Altered Images,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fire Engines,
Drexciya,
Black Flag,
Hoover,
Marc Almond,
Amon Düül II,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fuzztones,
Radiopuhelimet,
Deakin,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Severed Heads,
Minnie Riperton,
Crash Course in Science,
Ken Boothe,
The Techniques,
The Martian,
ABC,
Index,
Sound Behaviour,
Grauzone,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Surgeon,
Steve Hackett,
Urselle,
Sun City Girls,
Lightning Bolt,
The Knickerbockers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Little Man,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
One Last Wish,
Tubeway Army,
The Saints,
Ituana,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ossler,
James White and The Blacks,
The Victims,
The Smiths,
This Heat,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.