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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 D'Angelo 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 The Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
B.T. Express,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gong,
Procol Harum,
MDC,
Silicon Teens,
Chris & Cosey,
Max Romeo,
The Beau Brummels,
John Lydon,
Lou Christie,
Sällskapet,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bill Wells,
Wolf Eyes,
Mr. Review,
Rakim,
Aloha Tigers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Evens,
the Normal,
Theoretical Girls,
Matthew Halsall,
Scratch Acid,
Amon Düül II,
OOIOO,
the Slits,
Yazoo,
Ronan,
Cameo,
Black Pus,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Warsaw,
Drive Like Jehu,
Junior Murvin,
Byron Stingily,
the Bar-Kays,
Lalo Schifrin,
Urselle,
Television Personalities,
Amon Düül,
The Five Americans,
the Association,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marc Almond,
The Mummies,
James White and The Blacks,
Arcadia,
The Real Kids,
Harry Pussy,
The Modern Lovers,
Loose Ends,
Bauhaus,
Sparks,
Spandau Ballet,
Pere Ubu,
Royal Trux,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.