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 Tunisia and from Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rufus Thomas to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lakeside 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Knickerbockers,
Alton Ellis,
Matthew Halsall,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pylon,
The Music Machine,
Agitation Free,
The Electric Prunes,
Boz Scaggs,
Morten Harket,
Black Pus,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobby Byrd,
Gabor Szabo,
X-101,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Swans,
Arab on Radar,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Youth Brigade,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The New Christs,
Aural Exciters,
Lou Christie,
David Axelrod,
Tomorrow,
Soft Machine,
Altered Images,
Liliput,
The Wake,
Joe Smooth,
These Immortal Souls,
Pet Shop Boys,
AZ,
The Fugs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Susan Cadogan,
The Misunderstood,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Suburban Knight,
Niagra,
Trumans Water,
Ornette Coleman,
The Gap Band,
Mad Mike,
Q65,
Wasted Youth,
Grandmaster Flash,
Make Up,
Sex Pistols,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pagans,
New Age Steppers,
Young Marble Giants,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Livin' Joy,
Nik Kershaw,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yusef Lateef,
Animal Collective,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.