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 Benin and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Modern Lovers to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Flipper,
Bobby Byrd,
Moebius,
DJ Sneak,
Eddi Front,
a-ha,
Radio Birdman,
Ronnie Foster,
Mars,
Skriet,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Durutti Column,
Sight & Sound,
Eve St. Jones,
The Dirtbombs,
Crooked Eye,
Underground Resistance,
Matthew Bourne,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Offenders,
Inner City,
The Dave Clark Five,
The United States of America,
Monks,
Silicon Teens,
The Young Rascals,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
David Axelrod,
Ohio Players,
Alphaville,
Stetsasonic,
Bluetip,
Big Daddy Kane,
The American Breed,
Steve Hackett,
Tom Boy,
Angry Samoans,
The Wake,
The Red Krayola,
Rotary Connection,
Quadrant,
The Count Five,
Spandau Ballet,
Oblivians,
Sandy B,
10cc,
Lalo Schifrin,
LL Cool J,
Circle Jerks,
Dead Boys,
Aural Exciters,
The Velvet Underground,
The Mummies,
The Fall,
Hoover,
This Heat,
Archie Shepp,
L. Decosne,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.