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 Slovakia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin 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 Glambeats Corp. to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
The Monks,
Bobby Sherman,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marvin Gaye,
The Blues Magoos,
New York Dolls,
Qualms,
Dawn Penn,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lee Hazlewood,
This Heat,
Alphaville,
Oneida,
T. Rex,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Aloha Tigers,
Sex Pistols,
Schoolly D,
EPMD,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scan 7,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dark Day,
The Victims,
K-Klass,
Prince Buster,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Stockholm Monsters,
Loose Ends,
The Litter,
Joey Negro,
Man Parrish,
Ituana,
Sixth Finger,
The Sonics,
Black Sheep,
Niagra,
Radiopuhelimet,
H. Thieme,
The Doors,
Joy Division,
Mary Jane Girls,
Franke,
Angry Samoans,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Spoonie Gee,
Albert Ayler,
Little Man,
Henry Cow,
Urselle,
Lebanon Hanover,
U.S. Maple,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kenny Larkin,
The Toasters,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rod Modell,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mantronix,
Pylon,
Junior Murvin,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.