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 Nepal and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 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 The Associates to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Icehouse,
Deadbeat,
the Sonics,
Camouflage,
Index,
The Moleskins,
Howard Jones,
Television Personalities,
F. McDonald,
Quando Quango,
Pagans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lalo Schifrin,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Hardrive,
The Selecter,
X-102,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cymande,
Jerry's Kids,
Faust,
Arab on Radar,
Ronnie Foster,
Bill Near,
Essential Logic,
The Remains,
The Electric Prunes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Underground Resistance,
Nirvana,
Metal Thangz,
Drexciya,
Kurtis Blow,
Echospace,
Mark Hollis,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eurythmics,
Man Eating Sloth,
Parry Music,
Al Stewart,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bobby Byrd,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Janne Schatter,
Marvin Gaye,
MDC,
Main Source,
the Soft Cell,
Mary Jane Girls,
Franke,
Surgeon,
Spoonie Gee,
Colin Newman,
Amazonics,
Fad Gadget,
Wings,
Technova,
Swans,
Toni Rubio,
Don Cherry,
Black Pus,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.