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 Macedonia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Goldenarms to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Hoover,
Nirvana,
Blake Baxter,
Jeff Lynne,
T.S.O.L.,
Al Stewart,
Bauhaus,
Los Fastidios,
Deadbeat,
Pussy Galore,
Jacques Brel,
the Bar-Kays,
Surgeon,
cv313,
John Lydon,
Lucky Dragons,
CMW,
These Immortal Souls,
Swans,
Dawn Penn,
Porter Ricks,
Lou Christie,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Outsiders,
The Barracudas,
Rufus Thomas,
The Music Machine,
Soft Cell,
The Dave Clark Five,
Country Teasers,
Marcia Griffiths,
EPMD,
Niagra,
Moby Grape,
Pharoah Sanders,
B.T. Express,
Sexual Harrassment,
Darondo,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Names,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Residents,
The Litter,
Letta Mbulu,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Basic Channel,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Urselle,
Brass Construction,
Grauzone,
Mo-Dettes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Vogues,
Slick Rick,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
D'Angelo,
Yazoo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
kango's stein massive,
The Zeros,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.