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 Bhutan and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Quando Quango to the rap 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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb 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 organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
The Barracudas,
Wings,
Tom Boy,
Mo-Dettes,
Cybotron,
Janne Schatter,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Yazoo,
Absolute Body Control,
The Fugs,
The Slits,
John Lydon,
Sun City Girls,
the Sonics,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Martian,
Moby Grape,
Essential Logic,
Groovy Waters,
Peter and Kerry,
Tropical Tobacco,
Roxette,
The Pretty Things,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Talk Talk,
Eurythmics,
Hoover,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
World's Most,
JFA,
48th St. Collective,
The Trojans,
The Techniques,
Wasted Youth,
Byron Stingily,
DJ Sneak,
Make Up,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Brothers Johnson,
Robert Görl,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lalann,
Icehouse,
The Buckinghams,
Severed Heads,
Gichy Dan,
June Days,
Colin Newman,
Joe Finger,
Black Pus,
ABBA,
The Raincoats,
Model 500,
the Soft Cell,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Marc Almond,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.