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 Uganda and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Alarm Clocks to the dance 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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
The Names,
Rakim,
Fatback Band,
Main Source,
Lakeside,
Roxette,
T.S.O.L.,
Glenn Branca,
Bill Wells,
Tubeway Army,
Derrick Morgan,
Roy Ayers,
Shoche,
Rod Modell,
Los Fastidios,
Siglo XX,
Ludus,
Bobby Byrd,
Loose Ends,
Buzzcocks,
Shuggie Otis,
The Blues Magoos,
Basic Channel,
Unwound,
The Young Rascals,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Slits,
DJ Sneak,
Y Pants,
Fat Boys,
Inner City,
Lower 48,
Saccharine Trust,
Steve Hackett,
The Shadows of Knight,
Simply Red,
L. Decosne,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Happenings,
Cameo,
Warsaw,
Scratch Acid,
X-101,
the Association,
John Lydon,
The Mummies,
Rapeman,
The Busters,
Qualms,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Panda Bear,
Matthew Halsall,
Ohio Players,
Grandmaster Flash,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mo-Dettes,
Sparks,
Monolake,
China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis, China Crisis.
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.