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 Congo and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Morten Harket to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Barry Ungar,
Kayak,
Byron Stingily,
Section 25,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sandy B,
Monolake,
Deadbeat,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Joey Negro,
Delta 5,
Idris Muhammad,
Bobby Womack,
Don Cherry,
The Star Department,
Yusef Lateef,
Procol Harum,
The Buckinghams,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Henry Cow,
Audionom,
Sugar Minott,
Thee Headcoats,
Moby Grape,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lungfish,
Kurtis Blow,
H. Thieme,
Schoolly D,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Invisible,
Reagan Youth,
Newcleus,
X-101,
Freddie Wadling,
Terry Callier,
Pere Ubu,
The Mojo Men,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Zero Boys,
Spoonie Gee,
Oblivians,
Ludus,
the Germs,
Wolf Eyes,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Soft Cell,
The Monochrome Set,
Crispy Ambulance,
Agitation Free,
Oneida,
Sixth Finger,
The Evens,
The Cowsills,
Excepter,
Tomorrow,
Public Enemy,
Black Sheep,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Names,
Drexciya,
MC5,
Lebanon Hanover,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.