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 Congo and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Bobby Byrd to the rock 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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
The Walker Brothers,
Marvin Gaye,
The Dead C,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Josef K,
Faraquet,
Bronski Beat,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Colin Newman,
The Fire Engines,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Slackers,
James White and The Blacks,
Oneida,
The Pop Group,
Juan Atkins,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Monochrome Set,
the Swans,
Jawbox,
Parry Music,
Cymande,
The Five Americans,
The Skatalites,
The Real Kids,
Das Ding,
Y Pants,
Soft Machine,
Ronnie Foster,
Pierre Henry,
Mo-Dettes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Matthew Bourne,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Supertramp,
Lindisfarne,
David Bowie,
Rhythm & Sound,
John Holt,
Q65,
Maleditus Sound,
Organ,
Joe Finger,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gerry Rafferty,
Camouflage,
Roger Hodgson,
Dark Day,
H. Thieme,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Byrd,
Slick Rick,
Intrusion,
Ornette Coleman,
Marc Almond,
Johnny Osbourne,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tears for Fears,
Mantronix,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.