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 Croatia and from Toronto.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 John Holt to the electroclash 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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Schoolly D record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Harry Pussy,
The Star Department,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sarah Menescal,
Pantaleimon,
L. Decosne,
Moss Icon,
T. Rex,
Judy Mowatt,
Gil Scott Heron,
Alphaville,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Blancmange,
Alice Coltrane,
The Cowsills,
The Fugs,
Lower 48,
The Dirtbombs,
The Associates,
Wings,
The Misunderstood,
Trumans Water,
Camberwell Now,
R.M.O.,
The Fire Engines,
Throbbing Gristle,
Boredoms,
Gang Green,
Heaven 17,
Monks,
Newcleus,
Clear Light,
Man Eating Sloth,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Saints,
Grandmaster Flash,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Animal Collective,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cameo,
Maurizio,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Electric Prunes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Michelle Simonal,
Television,
Pet Shop Boys,
Barry Ungar,
Kayak,
Surgeon,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Standells,
The Blues Magoos,
The Fuzztones,
Sonic Youth,
The Wake,
Roy Ayers,
Niagra,
Los Fastidios,
Bad Manners,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.