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 New Zealand and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lille.
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 linndrum 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 Tears for Fears to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sight & Sound,
Scratch Acid,
F. McDonald,
Theoretical Girls,
Wire,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Raincoats,
Quando Quango,
The Real Kids,
The Skatalites,
T. Rex,
The Buckinghams,
The Trojans,
Girls At Our Best!,
Brick,
Bizarre Inc.,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eli Mardock,
The Cure,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lakeside,
Barry Ungar,
Neil Young,
Patti Smith,
D'Angelo,
Rekid,
Oneida,
The Stooges,
Glenn Branca,
KRS-One,
Chris Corsano,
Bob Dylan,
Deakin,
Jacques Brel,
Ronan,
Brass Construction,
Sandy B,
the Swans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Monks,
Thompson Twins,
Pere Ubu,
Black Sheep,
Pole,
Oblivians,
Goldenarms,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Silicon Teens,
Tommy Roe,
Adolescents,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fall,
The Sonics,
Excepter,
Zapp,
Aloha Tigers,
U.S. Maple,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.