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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Procol Harum to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Warren Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Raincoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Erasure,
Sister Nancy,
Tropical Tobacco,
Althea and Donna,
Gang Starr,
Alice Coltrane,
The Index,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crash Course in Science,
Jacques Brel,
The Busters,
The Gun Club,
Zapp,
Harry Pussy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Chrome,
Funky Four + One,
Eric B and Rakim,
OOIOO,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Bar-Kays,
Metal Thangz,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pole,
Colin Newman,
Roy Ayers,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Mummies,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Susan Cadogan,
Main Source,
The Real Kids,
These Immortal Souls,
Sarah Menescal,
Dead Boys,
The Music Machine,
Tears for Fears,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
June Days,
Scientists,
Nation of Ulysses,
Scion,
Black Moon,
Y Pants,
Alphaville,
Sound Behaviour,
Howard Jones,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bronski Beat,
Pantaleimon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Soulsonic Force,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Flash Fearless,
Lakeside,
Lou Reed,
Graham Central Station,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mandrill,
Buzzcocks,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.