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 Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bang On A Can to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warren Ellis,
Harry Pussy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Soft Cell,
Joe Smooth,
Sällskapet,
Desert Stars,
Isaac Hayes,
Minnie Riperton,
Rod Modell,
Pulsallama,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Bar-Kays,
Amon Düül,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Trumans Water,
Au Pairs,
Clear Light,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crooked Eye,
Suburban Knight,
Niagra,
Wings,
Eric Copeland,
Guru Guru,
Cheater Slicks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Beau Brummels,
Ornette Coleman,
Angry Samoans,
Oneida,
Pierre Henry,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Smoke,
Nation of Ulysses,
Symarip,
Buzzcocks,
Roxette,
Lou Christie,
Unrelated Segments,
Gang Gang Dance,
Saccharine Trust,
The Invisible,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Absolute Body Control,
Black Sheep,
Talk Talk,
Joy Division,
Gabor Szabo,
10cc,
The Fall,
The Dave Clark Five,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sugar Minott,
Kas Product,
Duran Duran,
The Selecter,
Stiv Bators,
Chris Corsano,
Sight & Sound,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.