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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Youth Brigade to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
The Durutti Column,
Scion,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Doors,
Barrington Levy,
Blossom Toes,
The Invisible,
Masters at Work,
Mr. Review,
The Skatalites,
Wings,
Warren Ellis,
Joensuu 1685,
The Alarm Clocks,
Davy DMX,
Clear Light,
F. McDonald,
Grauzone,
David Axelrod,
Rufus Thomas,
Letta Mbulu,
The Golliwogs,
The Angels of Light,
Neu!,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Robert Wyatt,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tubeway Army,
MC5,
Negative Approach,
Stiv Bators,
Royal Trux,
Deepchord,
The Searchers,
Max Romeo,
Crash Course in Science,
The Seeds,
Procol Harum,
Animal Collective,
Siglo XX,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Peter & Gordon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Martian,
Model 500,
Minor Threat,
Junior Murvin,
Wire,
Metal Thangz,
Josef K,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Coltrane,
Ten City,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cameo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Nils Olav,
Peter and Kerry,
The Beau Brummels,
Jimmy McGriff,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.