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 Bangladesh and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Swans to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
Slave,
Warsaw,
Easy Going,
Johnny Clarke,
H. Thieme,
Ohio Players,
Radiopuhelimet,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Star Department,
The Tremeloes,
Roxy Music,
Man Parrish,
Quando Quango,
DNA,
Grey Daturas,
Ituana,
The Angels of Light,
Underground Resistance,
Robert Görl,
Big Daddy Kane,
Country Teasers,
Ultravox,
Minor Threat,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bauhaus,
Ronnie Foster,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Gun Club,
Crispian St. Peters,
Avey Tare,
Ice-T,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mary Jane Girls,
Average White Band,
John Holt,
Talk Talk,
The Barracudas,
Organ,
Grandmaster Flash,
DJ Style,
Shuggie Otis,
In Retrospect,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pantytec,
Dead Boys,
Das Ding,
Pylon,
ABBA,
Faraquet,
Monks,
The Doors,
Surgeon,
Prince Buster,
Funkadelic,
Brand Nubian,
Rapeman,
Tim Buckley,
Cymande,
One Last Wish,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.