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 Tuvalu and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Bobby Womack to the punk 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav 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 an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
La Düsseldorf,
Moby Grape,
The American Breed,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Soulsonic Force,
Niagra,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David Axelrod,
The Flesh Eaters,
X-Ray Spex,
a-ha,
Drive Like Jehu,
Icehouse,
CMW,
Boz Scaggs,
The Beau Brummels,
Amon Düül II,
Reagan Youth,
The Raincoats,
Lalo Schifrin,
Can,
The Barracudas,
Echospace,
Brand Nubian,
Franke,
Youth Brigade,
DJ Style,
Groovy Waters,
Absolute Body Control,
Toni Rubio,
Steve Hackett,
Mars,
The Associates,
Grey Daturas,
Tubeway Army,
Mad Mike,
John Lydon,
The Dead C,
Hasil Adkins,
Japan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Minutemen,
The Moleskins,
Brick,
Soul II Soul,
the Swans,
Fat Boys,
The Gories,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Cramps,
Pierre Henry,
Cameo,
K-Klass,
Lucky Dragons,
E-Dancer,
Faraquet,
Chrome,
Dave Gahan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.