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 San Marino and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Toronto.
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 guitar 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 Quando Quango to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Rhythim Is Rhythim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
KRS-One,
Gang Green,
Aaron Thompson,
Clear Light,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Model 500,
Drexciya,
X-102,
Jacob Miller,
Sex Pistols,
Eric Dolphy,
Bob Dylan,
Morten Harket,
Connie Case,
Radiopuhelimet,
Nirvana,
The Residents,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Mummies,
The Monochrome Set,
Rakim,
Boredoms,
The Tremeloes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Slave,
The Neon Judgement,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Nik Kershaw,
Blossom Toes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Niagra,
Hardrive,
Scion,
One Last Wish,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gang Gang Dance,
Franke,
Jerry's Kids,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Wire,
Malaria!,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scratch Acid,
Shoche,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bush Tetras,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
June of 44,
Nick Fraelich,
Black Bananas,
Barclay James Harvest,
Arcadia,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ronnie Foster,
The Motions,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.