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 St Lucia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Average White Band to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
the Germs,
The Gun Club,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Radio Birdman,
a-ha,
Average White Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Count Five,
Boz Scaggs,
Depeche Mode,
Glenn Branca,
Boredoms,
Prince Buster,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Idris Muhammad,
Malaria!,
Faust,
The Trojans,
June Days,
Khruangbin,
Pantytec,
The Cure,
Derrick May,
Symarip,
Marc Almond,
Cluster,
Procol Harum,
The Smoke,
Hoover,
Banda Bassotti,
L. Decosne,
Severed Heads,
Peter and Kerry,
Dark Day,
Joyce Sims,
Joey Negro,
Todd Rundgren,
Intrusion,
Roger Hodgson,
Roy Ayers,
David McCallum,
Piero Umiliani,
Juan Atkins,
Robert Wyatt,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
H. Thieme,
Sonny Sharrock,
Shuggie Otis,
Soulsonic Force,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jawbox,
the Swans,
The Golliwogs,
E-Dancer,
The New Christs,
Echospace,
The Pop Group,
Basic Channel,
Cheater Slicks,
The Neon Judgement,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.