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 Algeria and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Derrick May to the crunk 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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Althea and Donna,
Radio Birdman,
F. McDonald,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Von Mondo,
Masters at Work,
Aloha Tigers,
Crooked Eye,
E-Dancer,
The Monks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Symarip,
Organ,
Goldenarms,
Dennis Brown,
Liliput,
Pagans,
Ronan,
Los Fastidios,
Laurel Aitken,
Dark Day,
The Litter,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Prince Buster,
Skarface,
the Soft Cell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ossler,
Alison Limerick,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Yaz,
Nico,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Quantec,
Jacob Miller,
The Slits,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Altered Images,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Dirtbombs,
Pere Ubu,
Adolescents,
Joe Finger,
Infiniti,
Youth Brigade,
Sam Rivers,
Chris Corsano,
Michelle Simonal,
Ronnie Foster,
Derrick Morgan,
The Tremeloes,
These Immortal Souls,
One Last Wish,
Black Pus,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
June of 44,
Josef K,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.