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 Lithuania and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dorothy Ashby to the jazz 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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Johnny Clarke,
Kool Moe Dee,
Swans,
The Sound,
Wire,
Tomorrow,
Yellowson,
Radio Birdman,
Gang of Four,
Cymande,
The Doors,
Ronan,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Trojans,
Cybotron,
UT,
The Monks,
Steve Hackett,
Chrome,
K-Klass,
The Residents,
The Gun Club,
Tommy Roe,
The Human League,
Marshall Jefferson,
Aural Exciters,
Michelle Simonal,
New Age Steppers,
John Coltrane,
DNA,
Tears for Fears,
the Germs,
Talk Talk,
T. Rex,
Scan 7,
Patti Smith,
Hoover,
Blancmange,
Erykah Badu,
Byron Stingily,
Suicide,
The Mummies,
Rod Modell,
The Star Department,
The J.B.'s,
Make Up,
Glenn Branca,
Babytalk,
Banda Bassotti,
Marvin Gaye,
The Birthday Party,
a-ha,
the Bar-Kays,
Andrew Hill,
Wally Richardson,
Ice-T,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Audionom,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.