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 Mongolia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Suburban Knight to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Circle Jerks,
Television Personalities,
Harry Pussy,
The Gories,
Alice Coltrane,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rekid,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Flipper,
X-101,
Barbara Tucker,
Soul Sonic Force,
Interpol,
Joy Division,
Theoretical Girls,
Y Pants,
This Heat,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Flamin' Groovies,
Black Moon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sarah Menescal,
Camberwell Now,
Marcia Griffiths,
Soft Machine,
Junior Murvin,
Ten City,
Oblivians,
The Cowsills,
Dawn Penn,
John Foxx,
Scientists,
Tubeway Army,
Aaron Thompson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Buckinghams,
Jeff Lynne,
Goldenarms,
Clear Light,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
DJ Style,
The Blues Magoos,
Marc Almond,
Ituana,
Dark Day,
Erykah Badu,
Carl Craig,
Warsaw,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Albert Ayler,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tim Buckley,
Audionom,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.