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 Kiribati and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Angry Samoans to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ossler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
The Barracudas,
Public Image Ltd.,
JFA,
Blossom Toes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Moby Grape,
Ronan,
Rites of Spring,
Barrington Levy,
Avey Tare,
Pole,
Grey Daturas,
Panda Bear,
Tim Buckley,
Saccharine Trust,
Delta 5,
Cheater Slicks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Martian,
the Human League,
Aswad,
The Busters,
Niagra,
Electric Prunes,
Essential Logic,
B.T. Express,
The Tremeloes,
The Standells,
The Electric Prunes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nik Kershaw,
F. McDonald,
Slave,
Japan,
Letta Mbulu,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Johnny Clarke,
Heaven 17,
H. Thieme,
Skarface,
Soulsonic Force,
Ten City,
a-ha,
Liliput,
Marmalade,
Bronski Beat,
Goldenarms,
Skaos,
The Fire Engines,
Faraquet,
Rhythm & Sound,
June Days,
Juan Atkins,
Jeru the Damaja,
Can,
Marshall Jefferson,
Scratch Acid,
Lyres,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.