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 Costa Rica and from Halifax.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jimmy McGriff to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
In Retrospect,
The Modern Lovers,
H. Thieme,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dual Sessions,
Mandrill,
The Smoke,
Gerry Rafferty,
Smog,
Second Layer,
Harry Pussy,
Talk Talk,
Barrington Levy,
Inner City,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Cramps,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
T.S.O.L.,
Ronan,
The Move,
Avey Tare,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Gladiators,
Ken Boothe,
Pylon,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Fire Engines,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Gories,
Suicide,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Tremeloes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Soft Cell,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fad Gadget,
UT,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soulsonic Force,
Mark Hollis,
Model 500,
Funky Four + One,
Jacques Brel,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Reagan Youth,
The Leaves,
Massinfluence,
The Blackbyrds,
The Happenings,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Franke,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Don Cherry,
Cameo,
Lower 48,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.