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 Ecuador and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Tim Buckley to the rap 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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Ultramagnetic MC's tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Public Enemy,
Terry Callier,
The Neon Judgement,
The United States of America,
Q and Not U,
Cybotron,
Mo-Dettes,
Masters at Work,
The Barracudas,
Eddi Front,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Deepchord,
David McCallum,
The Trojans,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mr. Review,
The Moleskins,
Dawn Penn,
Sällskapet,
The Skatalites,
Ossler,
Excepter,
The Electric Prunes,
The Dave Clark Five,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Colin Newman,
Godley & Creme,
Cal Tjader,
Radiohead,
The Leaves,
New Age Steppers,
World's Most,
Bootsy Collins,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rakim,
Black Pus,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pylon,
Technova,
Quadrant,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bizarre Inc.,
Aswad,
Los Fastidios,
Aloha Tigers,
Rufus Thomas,
Howard Jones,
Sister Nancy,
Bronski Beat,
Leonard Cohen,
The Durutti Column,
Black Moon,
Quantec,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Panda Bear,
Sugar Minott,
Jeff Mills,
Gang of Four,
Mad Mike,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.