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 Suriname and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Techniques. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
Model 500,
The Remains,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Whodini,
Section 25,
Steve Hackett,
The Offenders,
PIL,
Bob Dylan,
Brass Construction,
Bronski Beat,
Technova,
John Foxx,
Livin' Joy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Victims,
The Shadows of Knight,
Skarface,
The Doors,
Ronnie Foster,
Duran Duran,
X-Ray Spex,
DNA,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Seeds,
Nico,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Visage,
Eve St. Jones,
Alison Limerick,
Banda Bassotti,
Urselle,
K-Klass,
Johnny Clarke,
Rekid,
The Invisible,
Barry Ungar,
Patti Smith,
Iggy Pop,
Grauzone,
The Happenings,
Zapp,
Fela Kuti,
Sixth Finger,
Blossom Toes,
Shoche,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dawn Penn,
Danielle Patucci,
Janne Schatter,
Suburban Knight,
Hoover,
Tommy Roe,
Marcia Griffiths,
John Coltrane,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Isaac Hayes,
Mars,
Spoonie Gee,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.