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 Kyrgyzstan and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Seoul.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 electroclash 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 Litter. All the underground hits.
All Groovy Waters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
MDC,
Bizarre Inc.,
Maleditus Sound,
Kurtis Blow,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Sonics,
Arthur Verocai,
Pagans,
Chris Corsano,
Model 500,
Peter & Gordon,
Sällskapet,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jesper Dahlback,
Terrestrial Tones,
Malaria!,
Symarip,
The Pretty Things,
Alton Ellis,
Unrelated Segments,
Rapeman,
The Cure,
Gichy Dan,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jandek,
The Cowsills,
Pulsallama,
Sarah Menescal,
Wolf Eyes,
Nik Kershaw,
The Gap Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Bar-Kays,
Suburban Knight,
Monks,
The Raincoats,
Smog,
The Saints,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Last Poets,
The J.B.'s,
Bad Manners,
Cybotron,
Girls At Our Best!,
Dual Sessions,
The Buckinghams,
Mandrill,
Ice-T,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Terry Callier,
Flash Fearless,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Alison Limerick,
Yaz,
The Offenders,
the Swans,
Roger Hodgson,
H. Thieme,
Steve Hackett,
Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One.
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.