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 Slovakia and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Michelle Simonal to the rap 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Audionom,
Talk Talk,
Young Marble Giants,
The Martian,
Joey Negro,
Aswad,
Slave,
Mission of Burma,
Gregory Isaacs,
Icehouse,
New York Dolls,
Yaz,
Can,
Trumans Water,
Khruangbin,
Bauhaus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Skriet,
Porter Ricks,
Dawn Penn,
Matthew Halsall,
Roger Hodgson,
The Music Machine,
the Normal,
Q and Not U,
Byron Stingily,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Clear Light,
Gastr Del Sol,
Piero Umiliani,
Thompson Twins,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
In Retrospect,
Gichy Dan,
The Red Krayola,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Blues Magoos,
The Fugs,
June of 44,
Severed Heads,
Popol Vuh,
Hoover,
the Soft Cell,
Jawbox,
Connie Case,
Scott Walker,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Max Romeo,
Grauzone,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Smoke,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Sound,
PIL,
Warsaw,
Pere Ubu,
Joe Finger,
Ralphi Rosario,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.