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 Kazakhstan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Fuzztones to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ossler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Pantaleimon,
Minny Pops,
Loose Ends,
Marvin Gaye,
The Kinks,
John Lydon,
The Wake,
Joyce Sims,
the Soft Cell,
The United States of America,
The Smoke,
John Holt,
Suburban Knight,
Johnny Clarke,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lindisfarne,
Angry Samoans,
ABBA,
Stockholm Monsters,
PIL,
Bobby Byrd,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
These Immortal Souls,
Motorama,
the Human League,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Roxette,
Ronnie Foster,
Ten City,
Rosa Yemen,
Lalo Schifrin,
Organ,
Circle Jerks,
Tres Demented,
The Techniques,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Blake Baxter,
Rapeman,
The Cure,
Magazine,
Chris Corsano,
Radiohead,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Nico,
Gang Starr,
Infiniti,
Pussy Galore,
Mad Mike,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pylon,
Wings,
Roy Ayers,
Agent Orange,
Dennis Brown,
Michelle Simonal,
The Toasters,
Groovy Waters,
Surgeon,
Shuggie Otis,
B.T. Express,
The Flesh Eaters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.