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 United States and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the oboe 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 Crispy Ambulance to the techno 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 Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All La Düsseldorf tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
ABBA,
Al Stewart,
Dead Boys,
Davy DMX,
The New Christs,
Hot Snakes,
The Saints,
Aaron Thompson,
Michelle Simonal,
The Mummies,
The Slackers,
The Standells,
Mission of Burma,
Swans,
John Lydon,
Young Marble Giants,
Inner City,
Fatback Band,
Minor Threat,
Sun City Girls,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Country Teasers,
Black Pus,
Eli Mardock,
Cluster,
Y Pants,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Max Romeo,
Oneida,
Joey Negro,
Nirvana,
Con Funk Shun,
Thompson Twins,
Donny Hathaway,
Rufus Thomas,
Circle Jerks,
The Victims,
Alice Coltrane,
Deadbeat,
World's Most,
The Knickerbockers,
Jacques Brel,
Jeff Mills,
Talk Talk,
Boredoms,
The Velvet Underground,
The Monochrome Set,
Saccharine Trust,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Gap Band,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joy Division,
Jeru the Damaja,
Freddie Wadling,
Ronnie Foster,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Monolake,
Cybotron,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.