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 Iraq and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba 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 Joey Negro to the rock 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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Malaria!,
The Trojans,
Bill Wells,
Lyres,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Grass Roots,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Fania All-Stars,
Black Sheep,
Barclay James Harvest,
Archie Shepp,
The Names,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
Vainqueur,
The Fugs,
DJ Style,
Agitation Free,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Slackers,
Janne Schatter,
Sarah Menescal,
The Count Five,
Mission of Burma,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Zeros,
Sandy B,
Minny Pops,
Tubeway Army,
X-Ray Spex,
Anakelly,
Terry Callier,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Country Teasers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lungfish,
Scan 7,
Derrick Morgan,
Flipper,
Mo-Dettes,
Mark Hollis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Lydon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Aswad,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bronski Beat,
Yazoo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rhythm & Sound,
Oblivians,
The Toasters,
The Birthday Party,
The Electric Prunes,
F. McDonald,
Harmonia,
Swell Maps,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.