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 United States and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gerry Rafferty to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mad Mike,
Neil Young,
Fela Kuti,
The Invisible,
F. McDonald,
Sex Pistols,
Nik Kershaw,
Goldenarms,
Sister Nancy,
Carl Craig,
La Düsseldorf,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Smoke,
Young Marble Giants,
Joensuu 1685,
Susan Cadogan,
Spoonie Gee,
Drive Like Jehu,
Dennis Brown,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pantaleimon,
Lindisfarne,
The Selecter,
The Golliwogs,
Man Parrish,
The Skatalites,
Underground Resistance,
Johnny Osbourne,
Trumans Water,
Lakeside,
Pere Ubu,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Suicide,
Easy Going,
Alison Limerick,
Judy Mowatt,
Sixth Finger,
Kaleidoscope,
Soft Cell,
Archie Shepp,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Cecil Taylor,
The Seeds,
Can,
Hardrive,
Bad Manners,
Stiv Bators,
OOIOO,
Ornette Coleman,
This Heat,
Blancmange,
Franke,
Porter Ricks,
The Gladiators,
Wolf Eyes,
Lightning Bolt,
Wasted Youth,
The Alarm Clocks,
Drexciya,
Shuggie Otis,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.