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 India and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 synthesizer 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the disco 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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Robert Görl,
Stiv Bators,
The Trojans,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Cowsills,
Charles Mingus,
Eve St. Jones,
Goldenarms,
Depeche Mode,
the Sonics,
Royal Trux,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Boredoms,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ornette Coleman,
Boogie Down Productions,
Godley & Creme,
Mars,
Fluxion,
Neil Young,
Harry Pussy,
Malaria!,
Nas,
Girls At Our Best!,
Davy DMX,
Curtis Mayfield,
Yellowson,
Los Fastidios,
Bad Manners,
Tubeway Army,
The Moleskins,
Wire,
Alton Ellis,
X-101,
John Lydon,
Moebius,
the Normal,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Music Machine,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Beau Brummels,
Albert Ayler,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Black Dice,
Howard Jones,
Sexual Harrassment,
Thompson Twins,
Max Romeo,
The Misunderstood,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Anthony Braxton,
Dead Boys,
Marmalade,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Adolescents,
The Selecter,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wally Richardson,
James White and The Blacks,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.