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 Swaziland and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Nik Kershaw to the grunge 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 The New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
cv313,
Marmalade,
Jacob Miller,
Jacques Brel,
Au Pairs,
The Fugs,
Whodini,
The Blues Magoos,
Sällskapet,
The Fall,
Loose Ends,
a-ha,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Visage,
David Axelrod,
Aaron Thompson,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Yaz,
Ultravox,
Monks,
Newcleus,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Television,
Ossler,
D'Angelo,
Ituana,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sight & Sound,
Dennis Brown,
Franke,
Connie Case,
The Fortunes,
Cybotron,
The Barracudas,
Rapeman,
Marc Almond,
Faraquet,
T.S.O.L.,
Altered Images,
the Sonics,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Los Fastidios,
Fela Kuti,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Motions,
Kool Moe Dee,
Japan,
One Last Wish,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gang Green,
Tubeway Army,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mr. Review,
The Durutti Column,
Moby Grape,
Adolescents,
Inner City,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.