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 Malawi and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Rekid to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Robert Wyatt,
Harry Pussy,
Donald Byrd,
DNA,
The Motions,
Agent Orange,
UT,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cameo,
Zapp,
Mark Hollis,
Deepchord,
X-102,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Cramps,
Bill Near,
PIL,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Crooked Eye,
Accadde A,
The Flesh Eaters,
Icehouse,
K-Klass,
Scott Walker,
Skarface,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wasted Youth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Intrusion,
Con Funk Shun,
Tres Demented,
The Fuzztones,
Scan 7,
Easy Going,
New York Dolls,
Nas,
the Human League,
X-Ray Spex,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Drexciya,
Rapeman,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Robert Hood,
The Searchers,
Von Mondo,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Doors,
The Fugs,
Deakin,
Ituana,
Matthew Halsall,
Drive Like Jehu,
Slave,
Reagan Youth,
Can,
Neu!,
Tom Boy,
Minny Pops,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft, Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft.
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.