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 Mozambique and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 arpeggiator 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 Marmalade to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
John Coltrane,
The Dirtbombs,
Gastr Del Sol,
Blossom Toes,
Cybotron,
Main Source,
Television Personalities,
Quadrant,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cecil Taylor,
Minutemen,
Supertramp,
Gabor Szabo,
Clear Light,
Public Enemy,
MC5,
the Germs,
The Golliwogs,
Slick Rick,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
F. McDonald,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Michelle Simonal,
Jerry's Kids,
Camberwell Now,
Slave,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Thompson Twins,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nas,
The Raincoats,
Gil Scott Heron,
La Düsseldorf,
The J.B.'s,
the Bar-Kays,
Half Japanese,
Alton Ellis,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Knickerbockers,
Simply Red,
Robert Görl,
the Soft Cell,
Maurizio,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joensuu 1685,
Henry Cow,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Martian,
The American Breed,
The Toasters,
The Barracudas,
The Cure,
June of 44,
Khruangbin,
Lalo Schifrin,
Soul II Soul,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.