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 Micronesia and from Lagos.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 chamberlin 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Funky Four + One,
Rosa Yemen,
Supertramp,
The Dirtbombs,
Soft Cell,
Drexciya,
Big Daddy Kane,
Essential Logic,
Ronan,
Pierre Henry,
Byron Stingily,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lungfish,
The Birthday Party,
Lalann,
Hoover,
Stiv Bators,
Pussy Galore,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Robert Hood,
Minor Threat,
Basic Channel,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Toni Rubio,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Harmonia,
Pagans,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Tears for Fears,
Mandrill,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kerrie Biddell,
Howard Jones,
Cluster,
Public Enemy,
Avey Tare,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Country Teasers,
Wings,
Organ,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The New Christs,
David Bowie,
The Leaves,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Darondo,
The Last Poets,
The Toasters,
The Gories,
Lakeside,
Blancmange,
The Pretty Things,
Matthew Halsall,
The Pop Group,
The Knickerbockers,
The Saints,
Gong,
Lower 48,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.