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 Bahamas and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ 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 Techniques to the grime 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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
H. Thieme,
Das Ding,
The Offenders,
the Soft Cell,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Duran Duran,
Fatback Band,
Roger Hodgson,
The Stooges,
Donald Byrd,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Visage,
Rufus Thomas,
The Tremeloes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Anakelly,
Masters at Work,
Intrusion,
Chris & Cosey,
Pantytec,
Scrapy,
Public Enemy,
Dawn Penn,
Moebius,
Eden Ahbez,
Derrick May,
Interpol,
Wire,
Dead Boys,
Magazine,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Last Poets,
Moby Grape,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Roxette,
Davy DMX,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Judy Mowatt,
Fad Gadget,
Wings,
Funkadelic,
Bobby Sherman,
Wally Richardson,
John Lydon,
The Selecter,
Roy Ayers,
Michelle Simonal,
The Victims,
The Neon Judgement,
Basic Channel,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Be Bop Deluxe,
F. McDonald,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sam Rivers,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
David Bowie,
AZ,
Nirvana,
Massinfluence,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.