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 Seoul.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Procol Harum to the rock 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every China Crisis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sällskapet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Girls At Our Best!,
Audionom,
DJ Sneak,
Banda Bassotti,
Joe Finger,
Laurel Aitken,
Henry Cow,
The Moody Blues,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sound Behaviour,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rotary Connection,
The Dave Clark Five,
Boogie Down Productions,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Halsall,
Quadrant,
Hot Snakes,
The Moleskins,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Residents,
Lungfish,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Arthur Verocai,
In Retrospect,
the Swans,
the Sonics,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Black Sheep,
Television Personalities,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Talk Talk,
10cc,
Circle Jerks,
Erykah Badu,
Dead Boys,
Wally Richardson,
Andrew Hill,
Skriet,
The Gladiators,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Dirtbombs,
The American Breed,
F. McDonald,
Buzzcocks,
Silicon Teens,
Barbara Tucker,
Bush Tetras,
Eden Ahbez,
The Blackbyrds,
Unrelated Segments,
Eric B and Rakim,
Organ,
Traffic Nightmare,
Ronnie Foster,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nick Fraelich,
Funkadelic,
Loose Ends,
Mandrill,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.