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 Mozambique and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 organ 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
The Fall,
The Selecter,
Scott Walker,
Adolescents,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Searchers,
Ohio Players,
Mary Jane Girls,
Graham Central Station,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
ABC,
Average White Band,
Sister Nancy,
L. Decosne,
Make Up,
The Saints,
Ornette Coleman,
OOIOO,
Arcadia,
Spoonie Gee,
Excepter,
The Index,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Curtis Mayfield,
Soul Sonic Force,
Monks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Funkadelic,
Los Fastidios,
Mars,
Glenn Branca,
Roxette,
Jandek,
Marvin Gaye,
Prince Buster,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Dead C,
Spandau Ballet,
10cc,
Warsaw,
Rod Modell,
Gang of Four,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pantytec,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fugazi,
Jacob Miller,
Rekid,
kango's stein massive,
Underground Resistance,
Supertramp,
Procol Harum,
World's Most,
Roy Ayers,
Shuggie Otis,
Malaria!,
Dawn Penn,
Clear Light,
Parry Music,
D'Angelo,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.