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 Cape Verde and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 organ 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 Joe Smooth to the rap 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Hot Snakes,
The Knickerbockers,
Sight & Sound,
Black Flag,
John Foxx,
The Remains,
Boredoms,
Can,
Section 25,
The Kinks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Robert Görl,
Radiohead,
Banda Bassotti,
Sandy B,
Pussy Galore,
Don Cherry,
Harmonia,
The Vogues,
Tubeway Army,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Association,
Television Personalities,
Suburban Knight,
Y Pants,
The Gladiators,
Au Pairs,
The Grass Roots,
Cal Tjader,
Anakelly,
Aural Exciters,
Bill Near,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Barrington Levy,
Lou Christie,
Livin' Joy,
The Stooges,
Lightning Bolt,
Juan Atkins,
Kayak,
The Dirtbombs,
Depeche Mode,
Piero Umiliani,
Shoche,
Barclay James Harvest,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Roger Hodgson,
Godley & Creme,
Oblivians,
Isaac Hayes,
John Cale,
Tom Boy,
The Slackers,
Ten City,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Swell Maps,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Skaos,
Scott Walker,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
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.