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 Namibia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 theremin 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 Moebius to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Alton Ellis,
UT,
MDC,
Can,
Jeff Mills,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Amon Düül,
Thee Headcoats,
Gang Green,
Visage,
Marvin Gaye,
Skriet,
Blancmange,
Terry Callier,
Neu!,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Robert Hood,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Aloha Tigers,
Boogie Down Productions,
U.S. Maple,
Grauzone,
Andrew Hill,
Aaron Thompson,
Television Personalities,
D'Angelo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Marshall Jefferson,
JFA,
Flipper,
The Gladiators,
Little Man,
Rakim,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Nik Kershaw,
Lalann,
Ultra Naté,
Youth Brigade,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Count Five,
Fatback Band,
Faust,
Anthony Braxton,
New York Dolls,
Eurythmics,
Sister Nancy,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Residents,
Tubeway Army,
Inner City,
Scrapy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cecil Taylor,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Gories,
The Tremeloes,
Neil Young,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.