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 Macedonia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Jerry's Kids to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All Ronan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
The Cure,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Don Cherry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ronnie Foster,
Radiopuhelimet,
New Order,
Oneida,
Livin' Joy,
Make Up,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Goldenarms,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Swell Maps,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Matthew Bourne,
Carl Craig,
Peter & Gordon,
Mo-Dettes,
The Selecter,
Soft Cell,
Harmonia,
La Düsseldorf,
Rotary Connection,
Banda Bassotti,
Qualms,
Amazonics,
E-Dancer,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fear,
John Foxx,
Theoretical Girls,
Marmalade,
Con Funk Shun,
Josef K,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Last Poets,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Skaos,
Tim Buckley,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Leaves,
Pierre Henry,
Fugazi,
Joe Smooth,
Bill Wells,
It's A Beautiful Day,
B.T. Express,
Saccharine Trust,
Bronski Beat,
New York Dolls,
The Barracudas,
Henry Cow,
Spandau Ballet,
Colin Newman,
The Alarm Clocks,
F. McDonald,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.