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 Burkina and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Hong Kong.
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 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 Silicon Teens to the disco 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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All La Düsseldorf tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Brothers Johnson,
Trumans Water,
Pussy Galore,
Avey Tare,
Girls At Our Best!,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Alphaville,
DJ Sneak,
Talk Talk,
Schoolly D,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Gories,
The Techniques,
JFA,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Harry Pussy,
Don Cherry,
The Misunderstood,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Kinks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lindisfarne,
Johnny Clarke,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Junior Murvin,
Animal Collective,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mantronix,
David Axelrod,
Ultra Naté,
Lou Christie,
The Remains,
Johnny Osbourne,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cecil Taylor,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Radiopuhelimet,
Metal Thangz,
The Doors,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pantytec,
Los Fastidios,
Sparks,
The Mojo Men,
Crash Course in Science,
Vainqueur,
Boogie Down Productions,
Judy Mowatt,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bobby Womack,
Gil Scott Heron,
Radiohead,
Fat Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gabor Szabo,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.