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 Bangladesh and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 spring reverb 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the techno 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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Siglo XX,
The Slackers,
Janne Schatter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sun Ra,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Index,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Byron Stingily,
Icehouse,
The Fuzztones,
Blake Baxter,
Aural Exciters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
the Slits,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Walker Brothers,
Maurizio,
Don Cherry,
Tears for Fears,
Symarip,
Derrick Morgan,
Simply Red,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rosa Yemen,
Von Mondo,
The Five Americans,
R.M.O.,
Adolescents,
Procol Harum,
Jandek,
Ornette Coleman,
Deadbeat,
Jerry's Kids,
PIL,
Mad Mike,
Rufus Thomas,
Letta Mbulu,
Panda Bear,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Prince Buster,
ABC,
Flash Fearless,
DJ Style,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marine Girls,
Pharoah Sanders,
Freddie Wadling,
The Standells,
Y Pants,
Robert Hood,
Goldenarms,
Bad Manners,
Sam Rivers,
The Doors,
Delon & Dalcan,
Howard Jones,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Harmonia,
Brick,
Peter and Kerry,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.