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 Jamaica and from Copenhagen.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Crime to the electroclash 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Sun Ra,
A Certain Ratio,
Vladislav Delay,
cv313,
The Raincoats,
Animal Collective,
Harry Pussy,
Henry Cow,
F. McDonald,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
K-Klass,
The Move,
Bobby Womack,
John Lydon,
Barry Ungar,
Supertramp,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Skriet,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
June Days,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bizarre Inc.,
Scratch Acid,
Visage,
Marc Almond,
Hot Snakes,
Nirvana,
Model 500,
Outsiders,
Scion,
The Pretty Things,
The Moody Blues,
The Kinks,
Eve St. Jones,
Dark Day,
Blossom Toes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mad Mike,
Brothers Johnson,
John Foxx,
Crash Course in Science,
Soulsonic Force,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Skatalites,
Zapp,
Tim Buckley,
The Litter,
Joe Smooth,
Soul II Soul,
The Cramps,
Black Sheep,
Con Funk Shun,
Pet Shop Boys,
Adolescents,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Slackers,
The Sound,
E-Dancer,
Deakin,
Jawbox,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.