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 Jamaica and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and New York.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Altered Images to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erasure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
FM Einheit,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kerrie Biddell,
Freddie Wadling,
Mr. Review,
Matthew Bourne,
Agitation Free,
The Fire Engines,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Stooges,
Alphaville,
Pantytec,
Jeff Lynne,
Johnny Osbourne,
Grandmaster Flash,
Alice Coltrane,
Pantaleimon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Connie Case,
Sonic Youth,
Ultravox,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Gap Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Slackers,
Agent Orange,
Crispy Ambulance,
June of 44,
U.S. Maple,
Monolake,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Liliput,
DJ Style,
Average White Band,
The Red Krayola,
Blake Baxter,
Amon Düül II,
Kevin Saunderson,
Aswad,
Donald Byrd,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Durutti Column,
Black Bananas,
Scrapy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Shadows of Knight,
Talk Talk,
Deepchord,
Hashim,
The Vogues,
Fat Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Knickerbockers,
Sun Ra,
Metal Thangz,
Amon Düül,
Surgeon,
B.T. Express,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Cowsills,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.