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 Barbados and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 clarinet 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 Ultra Naté to the techno 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
Sun City Girls,
Darondo,
The Moody Blues,
Slick Rick,
Brothers Johnson,
Absolute Body Control,
Gil Scott Heron,
Joy Division,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ronnie Foster,
Bush Tetras,
10cc,
The Tremeloes,
Audionom,
The Toasters,
Anakelly,
EPMD,
Kayak,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ituana,
The Detroit Cobras,
Peter and Kerry,
Au Pairs,
Faust,
Stockholm Monsters,
Inner City,
Blancmange,
David McCallum,
Alton Ellis,
Eurythmics,
Prince Buster,
Sight & Sound,
Buzzcocks,
Model 500,
New York Dolls,
Heaven 17,
Aloha Tigers,
The Star Department,
Boz Scaggs,
KRS-One,
Soft Cell,
Unrelated Segments,
Sparks,
the Human League,
The Birthday Party,
Johnny Clarke,
Yazoo,
Barrington Levy,
The Blues Magoos,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rites of Spring,
The Skatalites,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kool Moe Dee,
Al Stewart,
The New Christs,
John Holt,
Hot Snakes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.