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 Ivory Coast and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Zero Boys 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Buzzcocks,
Skriet,
the Normal,
Dawn Penn,
Mr. Review,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Black Bananas,
Tubeway Army,
Rekid,
Fluxion,
Cymande,
Cluster,
Dark Day,
DNA,
Tommy Roe,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Simply Red,
Slick Rick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lou Christie,
Lindisfarne,
Cecil Taylor,
Sister Nancy,
The Trojans,
Audionom,
Gregory Isaacs,
Amazonics,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
This Heat,
Monks,
Theoretical Girls,
Quando Quango,
Can,
Loose Ends,
Excepter,
The Gun Club,
Susan Cadogan,
The Durutti Column,
Outsiders,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Litter,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Infiniti,
R.M.O.,
Bill Near,
Urselle,
Second Layer,
DJ Sneak,
Eddi Front,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jeff Mills,
Procol Harum,
Roy Ayers,
These Immortal Souls,
Absolute Body Control,
Brass Construction,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gang Green,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Clear Light,
Barbara Tucker,
Visage,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.