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 Zambia and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Amon Düül to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Five Americans,
The Star Department,
The Fortunes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jeff Lynne,
Aaron Thompson,
Thee Headcoats,
Wire,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Arthur Verocai,
Smog,
Scan 7,
Johnny Clarke,
the Association,
Zapp,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Barracudas,
Pere Ubu,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Goldenarms,
the Bar-Kays,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fugazi,
Sarah Menescal,
Angry Samoans,
Peter and Kerry,
Ossler,
UT,
The Birthday Party,
Roy Ayers,
Connie Case,
The Angels of Light,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Heaven 17,
Bill Near,
Anthony Braxton,
Make Up,
Mars,
Tears for Fears,
Fear,
Danielle Patucci,
Siglo XX,
Joyce Sims,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lee Hazlewood,
Al Stewart,
ABBA,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Main Source,
The Toasters,
Bauhaus,
Morten Harket,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Flipper,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.