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 Sierra Leone and from Mumbai.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Underground Resistance to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rufus Thomas,
Reuben Wilson,
Youth Brigade,
Bobby Sherman,
Pagans,
David Axelrod,
The Move,
Barrington Levy,
Glenn Branca,
Malaria!,
Half Japanese,
Fatback Band,
Alton Ellis,
The Fuzztones,
Man Parrish,
Prince Buster,
U.S. Maple,
Hoover,
the Swans,
Jandek,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Dirtbombs,
Scott Walker,
Das Ding,
The Fire Engines,
Joy Division,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Country Teasers,
Pere Ubu,
Bad Manners,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pussy Galore,
Little Man,
Michelle Simonal,
Stereo Dub,
Steve Hackett,
The Modern Lovers,
Crispy Ambulance,
Swell Maps,
Grauzone,
T. Rex,
John Foxx,
Shuggie Otis,
Vainqueur,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultra Naté,
Moby Grape,
Surgeon,
Yaz,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Dave Clark Five,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Electric Prunes,
Tears for Fears,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Infiniti,
Porter Ricks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
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.