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 Gambia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Barbara Tucker to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The New Christs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Hutcherson,
MDC,
Circle Jerks,
The Golliwogs,
B.T. Express,
June of 44,
Junior Murvin,
Wolf Eyes,
James White and The Blacks,
T. Rex,
Graham Central Station,
The Sound,
Kaleidoscope,
the Sonics,
The Smoke,
Terry Callier,
The Cure,
Bang On A Can,
The Evens,
Electric Prunes,
Pere Ubu,
MC5,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dual Sessions,
Malaria!,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Technova,
New York Dolls,
Marine Girls,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jeff Mills,
Derrick May,
The Martian,
The Move,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Tomorrow,
Minny Pops,
The Gap Band,
Supertramp,
Monolake,
Kenny Larkin,
Connie Case,
The Saints,
The Index,
Joy Division,
La Düsseldorf,
the Fania All-Stars,
Desert Stars,
The Litter,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Theoretical Girls,
Gastr Del Sol,
Matthew Halsall,
The Detroit Cobras,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sixth Finger,
Fat Boys,
Yellowson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Make Up,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.