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 Cameroon and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gories 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
the Association,
The Pretty Things,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stetsasonic,
U.S. Maple,
Livin' Joy,
June Days,
Bootsy Collins,
Howard Jones,
Morten Harket,
Scientists,
Alison Limerick,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Offenders,
Bang On A Can,
The Index,
Skarface,
Spandau Ballet,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Names,
The Standells,
Godley & Creme,
The Smiths,
Scan 7,
Kayak,
New Age Steppers,
The Busters,
Index,
Con Funk Shun,
Aswad,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jawbox,
The Buckinghams,
Khruangbin,
Subhumans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Althea and Donna,
Funkadelic,
Kenny Larkin,
Grauzone,
Gil Scott Heron,
Terry Callier,
The Selecter,
Neu!,
D'Angelo,
The Electric Prunes,
Freddie Wadling,
Black Moon,
Sexual Harrassment,
Suicide,
Youth Brigade,
Swans,
Soft Cell,
John Holt,
Aaron Thompson,
Don Cherry,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Vogues,
Shoche,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
FM Einheit,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.