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 Hungary and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Flesh Eaters to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Mantronix,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Stooges,
Aloha Tigers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pere Ubu,
The Buckinghams,
The Moody Blues,
Hoover,
Fela Kuti,
Gichy Dan,
The Selecter,
Funky Four + One,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kerrie Biddell,
Whodini,
Angry Samoans,
Deakin,
Heaven 17,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Faraquet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lalo Schifrin,
John Coltrane,
Soulsonic Force,
Gang of Four,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Searchers,
Tears for Fears,
Kayak,
Scratch Acid,
Dark Day,
Lucky Dragons,
Skarface,
Albert Ayler,
The Last Poets,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Offenders,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ituana,
Junior Murvin,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Blake Baxter,
Inner City,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
John Foxx,
The Five Americans,
Lindisfarne,
Porter Ricks,
Sugar Minott,
Gil Scott Heron,
Shoche,
Pussy Galore,
The Residents,
Man Parrish,
Simply Red,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Fortunes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Laurel Aitken,
Marshall Jefferson,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.