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 Azerbaijan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 spring reverb 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 Average White Band to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cramps. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agitation Free record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Half Japanese,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Skatalites,
Drexciya,
Lalo Schifrin,
Cybotron,
Harry Pussy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Todd Terry,
Section 25,
Morten Harket,
The Detroit Cobras,
UT,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Masters at Work,
Magma,
H. Thieme,
ABBA,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Archie Shepp,
The Music Machine,
Siglo XX,
Hasil Adkins,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
D'Angelo,
Franke,
L. Decosne,
Ken Boothe,
Brass Construction,
Graham Central Station,
The Neon Judgement,
Malaria!,
Second Layer,
Robert Görl,
Rod Modell,
Eurythmics,
Black Pus,
X-Ray Spex,
Newcleus,
Radiohead,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rakim,
The Dead C,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Litter,
Index,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gang of Four,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gang Green,
The Gap Band,
Ossler,
Desert Stars,
Circle Jerks,
EPMD,
The Selecter,
Main Source,
Bob Dylan,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.