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 Dominican Republic and from Philadelphia.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Althea and Donna to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Offenders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin 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 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
the Human League,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Alarm Clocks,
Loose Ends,
Camouflage,
John Coltrane,
Scott Walker,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bizarre Inc.,
DJ Style,
Brick,
The Remains,
Spandau Ballet,
Swans,
The Seeds,
Scrapy,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Offenders,
Procol Harum,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultra Naté,
Jeff Lynne,
Duran Duran,
Sex Pistols,
The Divine Comedy,
Nick Fraelich,
Drexciya,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Hardrive,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Slick Rick,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Japan,
The Searchers,
Pussy Galore,
Shuggie Otis,
Wings,
Minutemen,
Faraquet,
Terry Callier,
John Holt,
The Red Krayola,
The Smiths,
Derrick Morgan,
The Birthday Party,
Hoover,
Lower 48,
Public Image Ltd.,
Massinfluence,
Hasil Adkins,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobby Sherman,
Althea and Donna,
Colin Newman,
Television,
Crime,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.