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 Lagos.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lagos.
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 marimba 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 Severed Heads 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 John Foxx. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Velvet Underground record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
OOIOO,
D'Angelo,
The Durutti Column,
Joyce Sims,
Boredoms,
Thee Headcoats,
Cal Tjader,
Kerri Chandler,
Joensuu 1685,
Alton Ellis,
David Axelrod,
Skarface,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fat Boys,
Von Mondo,
The Mojo Men,
Harmonia,
David Bowie,
Desert Stars,
Bang On A Can,
Agitation Free,
The Tremeloes,
The Divine Comedy,
H. Thieme,
Duran Duran,
Robert Hood,
Darondo,
These Immortal Souls,
Symarip,
Arthur Verocai,
The Toasters,
The Leaves,
Howard Jones,
Donald Byrd,
Bobby Byrd,
Terry Callier,
Ultra Naté,
Gabor Szabo,
The Slackers,
The Remains,
Amon Düül,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Smoke,
B.T. Express,
Fatback Band,
Ken Boothe,
Tomorrow,
In Retrospect,
The Kinks,
Lucky Dragons,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kayak,
Todd Rundgren,
Fad Gadget,
Icehouse,
Lou Christie,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bob Dylan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pantytec,
Shuggie Otis,
Sonic Youth,
Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne, Johnny Osbourne.
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.