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 Benin and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ 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 Sun Ra to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Hardrive,
Nik Kershaw,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gong,
Rod Modell,
Marmalade,
ABC,
Alton Ellis,
Slick Rick,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Soulsonic Force,
Sex Pistols,
The Blues Magoos,
The Busters,
Deadbeat,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rites of Spring,
The Monks,
Althea and Donna,
Angry Samoans,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pharoah Sanders,
Khruangbin,
Darondo,
Sun City Girls,
Procol Harum,
Yazoo,
Tubeway Army,
Dead Boys,
Gang Starr,
Make Up,
Charles Mingus,
The Litter,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Delta 5,
Saccharine Trust,
Toni Rubio,
Porter Ricks,
AZ,
The Fire Engines,
Funkadelic,
Swans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sight & Sound,
Ronan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ludus,
Mark Hollis,
L. Decosne,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Bananas,
Sixth Finger,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Surgeon,
The Pop Group,
Negative Approach,
Babytalk,
Eli Mardock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron.
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.