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 Liberia and from Seoul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Columbus.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Durutti Column to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalann record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
Pantytec,
Joey Negro,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Barry Ungar,
This Heat,
Severed Heads,
Barbara Tucker,
The Zeros,
Gregory Isaacs,
10cc,
The Real Kids,
The Busters,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cowsills,
Man Parrish,
The Fall,
Crooked Eye,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Oneida,
Funkadelic,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Tears for Fears,
Cluster,
Brick,
Porter Ricks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Young Marble Giants,
Wire,
Alton Ellis,
Television,
Yellowson,
Laurel Aitken,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eric Copeland,
Animal Collective,
The Trojans,
Amon Düül II,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Normal,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Massinfluence,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Seeds,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
the Soft Cell,
Robert Hood,
Liliput,
Ohio Players,
John Holt,
Bobby Sherman,
Khruangbin,
Jeff Lynne,
Nirvana,
Terry Callier,
JFA,
Magazine,
Bad Manners,
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.