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 Singapore and from Edmonton.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sun Ra to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Soft Cell,
Marine Girls,
The Blackbyrds,
Yusef Lateef,
The Gories,
Grandmaster Flash,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rosa Yemen,
the Swans,
The Cowsills,
Amon Düül II,
Curtis Mayfield,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Joyce Sims,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Monolake,
Joensuu 1685,
The Five Americans,
Nik Kershaw,
Magma,
The Electric Prunes,
Gabor Szabo,
Kenny Larkin,
Roxy Music,
the Normal,
Qualms,
Graham Central Station,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Nils Olav,
Steve Hackett,
Leonard Cohen,
Sun Ra,
Man Parrish,
Hoover,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Tommy Roe,
Absolute Body Control,
Spandau Ballet,
Ultravox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ossler,
JFA,
Nico,
These Immortal Souls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
China Crisis,
Arthur Verocai,
The Human League,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Smog,
Sound Behaviour,
Peter & Gordon,
Nick Fraelich,
Andrew Hill,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux.
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.