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 Yemen and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the güiro 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 AZ to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Cheater Slicks,
Peter and Kerry,
Al Stewart,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Blake Baxter,
Spandau Ballet,
Marshall Jefferson,
the Sonics,
DJ Style,
Scratch Acid,
Henry Cow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Star Department,
Harry Pussy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Can,
Sonny Sharrock,
Shuggie Otis,
Khruangbin,
The Saints,
Alphaville,
Amazonics,
The Litter,
Scientists,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jandek,
Mr. Review,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Archie Shepp,
ABC,
Pere Ubu,
Grandmaster Flash,
Wally Richardson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Howard Jones,
Index,
Leonard Cohen,
Make Up,
the Germs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Model 500,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Spoonie Gee,
Q and Not U,
Jerry's Kids,
Babytalk,
Vladislav Delay,
Avey Tare,
Bobby Womack,
Barbara Tucker,
Soft Cell,
Desert Stars,
Lee Hazlewood,
Albert Ayler,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
a-ha,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Michelle Simonal,
Terry Callier,
Severed Heads,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.