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 Mauritania and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Donald Byrd to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All the Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Groovy Waters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dual Sessions,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Prince Buster,
kango's stein massive,
The Modern Lovers,
Shuggie Otis,
David Bowie,
Grandmaster Flash,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rekid,
Black Pus,
Ultra Naté,
Sight & Sound,
Scratch Acid,
Siglo XX,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ice-T,
Pole,
Ponytail,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Los Fastidios,
Popol Vuh,
Malaria!,
Barry Ungar,
Mars,
The Litter,
UT,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lucky Dragons,
The Wake,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Monochrome Set,
Donald Byrd,
Grauzone,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Intrusion,
Roxette,
The Misunderstood,
John Lydon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nico,
La Düsseldorf,
Black Bananas,
Stiv Bators,
Agitation Free,
Adolescents,
The Searchers,
Interpol,
Ossler,
Sun Ra,
Camouflage,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Radiohead,
Qualms,
Metal Thangz,
Fluxion,
Basic Channel,
The Moody Blues,
The Knickerbockers,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.