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 Somalia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 sitar 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 Young Marble Giants to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delon & Dalcan,
David Axelrod,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Harry Pussy,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scientists,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Pretty Things,
the Association,
Wire,
The Monochrome Set,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Swell Maps,
The Index,
Infiniti,
Intrusion,
Althea and Donna,
Man Parrish,
Motorama,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Derrick May,
Bad Manners,
Wasted Youth,
Lightning Bolt,
Blancmange,
DNA,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bronski Beat,
The Happenings,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Average White Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bootsy Collins,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lucky Dragons,
Nirvana,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nico,
Khruangbin,
D'Angelo,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eric Copeland,
The Angels of Light,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Severed Heads,
Tubeway Army,
Sex Pistols,
the Soft Cell,
The Neon Judgement,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Vogues,
Wings,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Radiohead,
Zapp,
Robert Hood,
Pere Ubu,
June Days,
Moss Icon,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.