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 Colombia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare 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 Robert Wyatt to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Modern Lovers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
The Moleskins,
Barrington Levy,
Basic Channel,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sonny Sharrock,
Radio Birdman,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Bar-Kays,
Maurizio,
Severed Heads,
Swans,
Khruangbin,
Don Cherry,
The Human League,
The Pretty Things,
the Slits,
The Tremeloes,
Schoolly D,
The Mummies,
ABBA,
Eric Dolphy,
Charles Mingus,
The Toasters,
The Kinks,
Quantec,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Joensuu 1685,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Knickerbockers,
Warren Ellis,
K-Klass,
The United States of America,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mars,
The American Breed,
The Count Five,
Eddi Front,
Danielle Patucci,
Y Pants,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Foxx,
Bang On A Can,
Wally Richardson,
Heaven 17,
Dual Sessions,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Boz Scaggs,
Infiniti,
Second Layer,
Gang Starr,
Organ,
Pagans,
Stiv Bators,
Ralphi Rosario,
Subhumans,
The Sound,
Pussy Galore,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.