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 Costa Rica and from Bremen.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord 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 Gang Green to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
The Misunderstood,
Ken Boothe,
the Swans,
Aural Exciters,
OOIOO,
The Buckinghams,
Pantytec,
Marshall Jefferson,
New York Dolls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Absolute Body Control,
Nils Olav,
Leonard Cohen,
The Move,
Stetsasonic,
Buzzcocks,
DJ Sneak,
Outsiders,
The Knickerbockers,
Essential Logic,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Janne Schatter,
the Sonics,
Bobby Womack,
Donald Byrd,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fat Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
Newcleus,
Derrick Morgan,
The Mojo Men,
Quadrant,
Rapeman,
The Sound,
Iggy Pop,
Bobby Sherman,
Lindisfarne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Clear Light,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pulsallama,
Dave Gahan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
X-102,
Public Enemy,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ludus,
Magazine,
Fugazi,
Minny Pops,
Quantec,
K-Klass,
The Techniques,
MDC,
the Association,
Jimmy McGriff,
Max Romeo,
Vainqueur,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.