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 France and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 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 Heaven 17 to the dance 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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Circle Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
A Certain Ratio,
Excepter,
CMW,
Dual Sessions,
Blossom Toes,
Essential Logic,
The Angels of Light,
Dawn Penn,
Subhumans,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Schoolly D,
The Shadows of Knight,
Terry Callier,
Scratch Acid,
Rapeman,
Can,
The Offenders,
Absolute Body Control,
Eve St. Jones,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eden Ahbez,
Letta Mbulu,
The Doors,
Audionom,
The Smoke,
Monks,
The Fugs,
The Barracudas,
Groovy Waters,
The Cure,
Altered Images,
Sugar Minott,
Bobby Womack,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Moleskins,
Joy Division,
Grandmaster Flash,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marine Girls,
Hashim,
Supertramp,
The Techniques,
Eli Mardock,
Make Up,
The Seeds,
Bang On A Can,
Crime,
FM Einheit,
Ornette Coleman,
Swell Maps,
The Dead C,
The Divine Comedy,
Theoretical Girls,
The Victims,
Fugazi,
Trumans Water,
cv313,
Chris Corsano,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.