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 Saudi Arabia and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Boogie Down Productions to the crunk 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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nirvana,
Circle Jerks,
The Modern Lovers,
Freddie Wadling,
The Toasters,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Skatalites,
Jandek,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sugar Minott,
The Smoke,
World's Most,
The Alarm Clocks,
Drexciya,
Ponytail,
Bad Manners,
Talk Talk,
Kool Moe Dee,
Loose Ends,
The Five Americans,
June Days,
Alphaville,
Chris & Cosey,
The Angels of Light,
Newcleus,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ten City,
Eden Ahbez,
Junior Murvin,
Procol Harum,
Sparks,
The Seeds,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Alice Coltrane,
UT,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Smog,
Urselle,
Pole,
Jacques Brel,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Max Romeo,
Rekid,
Popol Vuh,
The Durutti Column,
Soul II Soul,
Siglo XX,
the Swans,
The Velvet Underground,
Absolute Body Control,
Johnny Osbourne,
Al Stewart,
Lindisfarne,
Tears for Fears,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sandy B,
Girls At Our Best!,
Peter and Kerry,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.