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 Uzbekistan and from Mexico City.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Beijing.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Carl Craig to the jazz 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 The Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Maleditus Sound,
Spandau Ballet,
Nation of Ulysses,
Liliput,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bang On A Can,
Brass Construction,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Doors,
New York Dolls,
Marmalade,
Organ,
The Litter,
Soul Sonic Force,
Soulsonic Force,
Mission of Burma,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Suicide,
Bill Wells,
Donny Hathaway,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Pet Shop Boys,
Neil Young,
Electric Prunes,
Bauhaus,
The Tremeloes,
Nico,
Tres Demented,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lou Reed,
F. McDonald,
Rufus Thomas,
Brothers Johnson,
Bobby Byrd,
Y Pants,
Simply Red,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Dead Boys,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
8 Eyed Spy,
Matthew Bourne,
Lalo Schifrin,
Tim Buckley,
The Skatalites,
Sixth Finger,
Lightning Bolt,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jerry's Kids,
Shuggie Otis,
Warren Ellis,
Television Personalities,
Camouflage,
X-102,
Altered Images,
Anakelly,
Scan 7,
The Modern Lovers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Soft Cell,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.