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 Qatar and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 Sugar Minott to the disco 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
The Cure,
Amon Düül,
The Skatalites,
Ken Boothe,
Jerry's Kids,
Alphaville,
Eric B and Rakim,
Aloha Tigers,
Drexciya,
The Misunderstood,
Accadde A,
Dual Sessions,
Neil Young,
John Foxx,
The Litter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Motorama,
Brick,
Deakin,
The Motions,
Amazonics,
Procol Harum,
The Velvet Underground,
Tres Demented,
Index,
Peter and Kerry,
Black Flag,
Eric Dolphy,
Suicide,
Silicon Teens,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Panda Bear,
Toni Rubio,
The Birthday Party,
Fugazi,
Aural Exciters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Techniques,
The Shadows of Knight,
X-Ray Spex,
The Smiths,
the Sonics,
Pantaleimon,
Harry Pussy,
Whodini,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
cv313,
OOIOO,
Stereo Dub,
Arab on Radar,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roger Hodgson,
Second Layer,
H. Thieme,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Trojans,
Jeru the Damaja,
Visage,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.