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 Jamaica and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Pulsallama to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Stetsasonic,
The Slits,
The Neon Judgement,
Pylon,
Spandau Ballet,
Arcadia,
The Gap Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Suicide,
Mantronix,
Ronnie Foster,
Talk Talk,
Freddie Wadling,
X-101,
Chris Corsano,
Janne Schatter,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Neil Young,
Rekid,
Das Ding,
The Names,
Half Japanese,
The Durutti Column,
Porter Ricks,
Wings,
Negative Approach,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gichy Dan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bootsy Collins,
Roxy Music,
Sister Nancy,
Make Up,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Moss Icon,
The Blackbyrds,
Television Personalities,
Ultra Naté,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Wolf Eyes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joe Finger,
Sällskapet,
Pulsallama,
Black Pus,
Thee Headcoats,
Yazoo,
Ten City,
The Cowsills,
James White and The Blacks,
Oblivians,
UT,
The Detroit Cobras,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.