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 Tanzania and from New York.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the funk 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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Funkadelic,
Lungfish,
Jacob Miller,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Toni Rubio,
Spandau Ballet,
Eric Dolphy,
Ornette Coleman,
The Sonics,
Boredoms,
Joe Finger,
the Swans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Move,
DJ Style,
Black Sheep,
Wally Richardson,
The Black Dice,
Whodini,
Joy Division,
Boz Scaggs,
Black Flag,
Jeff Lynne,
Dave Gahan,
Minny Pops,
The Names,
The Modern Lovers,
Scrapy,
Rotary Connection,
The Seeds,
Aural Exciters,
Rufus Thomas,
AZ,
Oblivians,
Buzzcocks,
Bauhaus,
Carl Craig,
The Misunderstood,
Fugazi,
Procol Harum,
Nils Olav,
PIL,
Brand Nubian,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Clear Light,
Gichy Dan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Scott Walker,
Vainqueur,
Crash Course in Science,
Robert Görl,
Tim Buckley,
Letta Mbulu,
The Angels of Light,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.