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 Gabon and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Derrick Morgan to the jazz 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
Massinfluence,
Oblivians,
The Dirtbombs,
Inner City,
Radiopuhelimet,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sugar Minott,
Rapeman,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Unwound,
Dark Day,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Walker Brothers,
Cal Tjader,
the Association,
Glenn Branca,
The Durutti Column,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Busters,
Albert Ayler,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
This Heat,
Quadrant,
Franke,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ponytail,
The New Christs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Shadows of Knight,
Robert Wyatt,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bad Manners,
Harmonia,
Jerry's Kids,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Crispy Ambulance,
Tears for Fears,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ossler,
The American Breed,
Michelle Simonal,
Lightning Bolt,
Robert Görl,
Soulsonic Force,
E-Dancer,
The Gladiators,
Can,
Tom Boy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cluster,
The Fugs,
Bobby Womack,
Pussy Galore,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Livin' Joy,
Suburban Knight,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.