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 Cyprus and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Fall to the punk 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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zapp 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag 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?
Maurizio,
Nik Kershaw,
DJ Sneak,
Black Bananas,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Easy Going,
Tommy Roe,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Index,
Crime,
The Birthday Party,
Faraquet,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Victims,
Skriet,
Cameo,
Donald Byrd,
Fad Gadget,
The Doors,
Sexual Harrassment,
Heaven 17,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soul Sonic Force,
Deepchord,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Martian,
Scrapy,
Letta Mbulu,
June Days,
China Crisis,
The Kinks,
Sarah Menescal,
Ossler,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bootsy Collins,
Lalann,
The Litter,
Audionom,
Gichy Dan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ultravox,
Rufus Thomas,
The Cure,
Gong,
Ken Boothe,
Albert Ayler,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Absolute Body Control,
F. McDonald,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gang Gang Dance,
Zapp,
Youth Brigade,
Sam Rivers,
48th St. Collective,
Von Mondo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Toni Rubio,
Black Pus,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.