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 Bhutan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Deepchord to the rock 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
DJ Sneak,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Clear Light,
The Real Kids,
Minnie Riperton,
Underground Resistance,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Angry Samoans,
Alphaville,
Ponytail,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Remains,
A Certain Ratio,
Barbara Tucker,
Sex Pistols,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
James White and The Blacks,
Mr. Review,
Bobby Womack,
Gabor Szabo,
Buzzcocks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
X-Ray Spex,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bob Dylan,
Arcadia,
Arthur Verocai,
June Days,
Scan 7,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nation of Ulysses,
Carl Craig,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Con Funk Shun,
Matthew Bourne,
Infiniti,
Michelle Simonal,
Black Sheep,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Zapp,
Dawn Penn,
The Smiths,
The Pretty Things,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sällskapet,
The J.B.'s,
China Crisis,
Tim Buckley,
The Neon Judgement,
Blancmange,
Eli Mardock,
The Kinks,
David Bowie,
Connie Case,
Grandmaster Flash,
Chrome,
Mad Mike,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.