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 Djibouti and from Beijing.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Von Mondo to the rock 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ultravox,
Brothers Johnson,
Bill Near,
the Slits,
Hot Snakes,
Malaria!,
Circle Jerks,
The United States of America,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Donny Hathaway,
Alison Limerick,
Warsaw,
Al Stewart,
F. McDonald,
Shuggie Otis,
Babytalk,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
CMW,
The Tremeloes,
Kurtis Blow,
The Fortunes,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pet Shop Boys,
Minny Pops,
Roy Ayers,
Lindisfarne,
The Slackers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Mandrill,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
OOIOO,
The Move,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yusef Lateef,
Erasure,
Letta Mbulu,
The Blues Magoos,
Panda Bear,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Television Personalities,
Bootsy Collins,
Anthony Braxton,
Lou Christie,
Hasil Adkins,
The Busters,
Sex Pistols,
The Victims,
The Fire Engines,
Aloha Tigers,
Arab on Radar,
Swans,
Eric B and Rakim,
In Retrospect,
Jacques Brel,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Liliput,
Mission of Burma,
Tommy Roe,
DNA,
Brick,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.