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 Libya and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Deakin to the jazz 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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Robert Wyatt,
Judy Mowatt,
These Immortal Souls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cecil Taylor,
Drexciya,
Parry Music,
Banda Bassotti,
The Smoke,
Althea and Donna,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Flamin' Groovies,
Agent Orange,
the Slits,
Sex Pistols,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Seeds,
The Neon Judgement,
Archie Shepp,
A Certain Ratio,
The Kinks,
Siglo XX,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gang Starr,
Stiv Bators,
Surgeon,
Pylon,
Easy Going,
Crooked Eye,
Matthew Bourne,
L. Decosne,
The Cramps,
Slave,
Wasted Youth,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Saints,
The Music Machine,
The Modern Lovers,
The Misunderstood,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Walker Brothers,
The Leaves,
Pantaleimon,
Quantec,
Mandrill,
Marmalade,
Lower 48,
The Blues Magoos,
Todd Rundgren,
Young Marble Giants,
The Grass Roots,
Nick Fraelich,
The Searchers,
Soft Machine,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
cv313,
Crime,
Ultravox,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.