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 Cape Verde and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Quando Quango to the rap 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 Moby Grape. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Popol Vuh,
Judy Mowatt,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bush Tetras,
The Blackbyrds,
Colin Newman,
Derrick Morgan,
Alice Coltrane,
Rod Modell,
Can,
ABC,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Radiopuhelimet,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Blossom Toes,
Josef K,
The Blues Magoos,
Average White Band,
Niagra,
Sight & Sound,
Circle Jerks,
The Beau Brummels,
10cc,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Mojo Men,
Chrome,
The Dead C,
Khruangbin,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eddi Front,
Franke,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Brick,
Swell Maps,
Adolescents,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Siglo XX,
Quando Quango,
Shoche,
Stiv Bators,
Sun City Girls,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jeff Mills,
Mark Hollis,
Carl Craig,
Alton Ellis,
Cameo,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bill Near,
Ohio Players,
Roger Hodgson,
Unrelated Segments,
Steve Hackett,
The Index,
Black Sheep,
Symarip,
Crime,
cv313,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
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.