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 India and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Toronto.
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 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 Lou Reed 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 Marvin Gaye to the funk 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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Surgeon,
Faraquet,
Steve Hackett,
Marmalade,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Bar-Kays,
The Five Americans,
Archie Shepp,
Von Mondo,
New Order,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Smog,
Anakelly,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Joyce Sims,
Soft Machine,
Theoretical Girls,
Crispian St. Peters,
Moebius,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pussy Galore,
Public Enemy,
Model 500,
Barry Ungar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tubeway Army,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
In Retrospect,
Terrestrial Tones,
Babytalk,
Don Cherry,
Spoonie Gee,
Lower 48,
Massinfluence,
Peter & Gordon,
The Stooges,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Icehouse,
Bronski Beat,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Pus,
Animal Collective,
The Smiths,
This Heat,
Tears for Fears,
Bob Dylan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Harmonia,
The Star Department,
Yusef Lateef,
Vainqueur,
Delta 5,
Joe Smooth,
Blossom Toes,
Thee Headcoats,
Thompson Twins,
The Associates,
Symarip,
The Fall,
Fatback Band,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.