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 Grenada and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 harpsichord 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eden Ahbez,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ituana,
Soul II Soul,
MC5,
Derrick May,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Black Dice,
Andrew Hill,
Half Japanese,
The Dirtbombs,
Fatback Band,
The Cramps,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Circle Jerks,
Anthony Braxton,
Lou Christie,
Malaria!,
Lyres,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Don Cherry,
Charles Mingus,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Depeche Mode,
Talk Talk,
Kerri Chandler,
Minnie Riperton,
Dennis Brown,
Lungfish,
Eve St. Jones,
Scientists,
New Order,
Sex Pistols,
The Residents,
U.S. Maple,
Organ,
Cluster,
Das Ding,
The Gladiators,
Sister Nancy,
Monks,
X-101,
The Pretty Things,
Radiohead,
The Modern Lovers,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Invisible,
Moby Grape,
Warren Ellis,
Barry Ungar,
Magma,
Amon Düül,
The Blues Magoos,
Desert Stars,
Public Enemy,
The Buckinghams,
the Sonics,
The Cure,
Negative Approach,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.