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 Mongolia and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Slits to the grunge 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 The Remains. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Zero Boys,
The Black Dice,
The Trojans,
Fear,
Ultimate Spinach,
Khruangbin,
Gil Scott Heron,
Nico,
Pierre Henry,
The Smiths,
Letta Mbulu,
The J.B.'s,
The Alarm Clocks,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Barracudas,
Warren Ellis,
Morten Harket,
Frankie Knuckles,
B.T. Express,
Wally Richardson,
Bill Near,
Skriet,
Popol Vuh,
The Sonics,
John Coltrane,
Hardrive,
The Wake,
Au Pairs,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Beau Brummels,
Dual Sessions,
Technova,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lou Reed,
T.S.O.L.,
Gang Green,
The Gories,
The United States of America,
Ken Boothe,
Can,
The Detroit Cobras,
Second Layer,
Jeru the Damaja,
Whodini,
Pagans,
Maurizio,
Sonic Youth,
Nick Fraelich,
Isaac Hayes,
Swans,
Saccharine Trust,
Neu!,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tommy Roe,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lower 48,
Tim Buckley,
Minnie Riperton,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pylon,
Deakin,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.