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 Brazil and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 rhodes 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 The Count Five to the disco 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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Red Krayola,
The Barracudas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Toasters,
June Days,
Sight & Sound,
Tres Demented,
The Human League,
Magma,
Drive Like Jehu,
Los Fastidios,
Ohio Players,
Brothers Johnson,
Moebius,
Soul II Soul,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fela Kuti,
Graham Central Station,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Connie Case,
Symarip,
Brand Nubian,
Toni Rubio,
The Fire Engines,
Iggy Pop,
Ronnie Foster,
Minutemen,
Agent Orange,
Scientists,
The Dirtbombs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
New York Dolls,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Kinks,
Siglo XX,
Adolescents,
Bill Near,
Eli Mardock,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Camouflage,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Slits,
Aural Exciters,
Porter Ricks,
Spoonie Gee,
Camberwell Now,
Judy Mowatt,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
D'Angelo,
Aloha Tigers,
Drexciya,
Lebanon Hanover,
Boogie Down Productions,
DNA,
Don Cherry,
OOIOO,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fear,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.