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 Moldova and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Man Eating Sloth to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Sound Behaviour,
Slave,
Shuggie Otis,
The J.B.'s,
Minutemen,
The Count Five,
Lindisfarne,
Warsaw,
K-Klass,
The Angels of Light,
The Buckinghams,
The United States of America,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Cowsills,
The Doors,
Donald Byrd,
Maleditus Sound,
DJ Sneak,
Accadde A,
Kaleidoscope,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sällskapet,
Dennis Brown,
Ponytail,
EPMD,
Rotary Connection,
Pet Shop Boys,
Surgeon,
The Knickerbockers,
Oneida,
Mission of Burma,
X-Ray Spex,
Godley & Creme,
Alison Limerick,
Big Daddy Kane,
Youth Brigade,
Heaven 17,
Unwound,
The Music Machine,
Black Pus,
Rufus Thomas,
The Electric Prunes,
Cameo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ice-T,
Mr. Review,
The Fuzztones,
John Cale,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Move,
Rakim,
the Germs,
The Litter,
Technova,
Pole,
The Divine Comedy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ludus,
Camberwell Now,
Jimmy McGriff,
Aloha Tigers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.