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 Mauritius and from Philadelphia.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bush Tetras to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Khruangbin,
Colin Newman,
Fluxion,
Avey Tare,
Maleditus Sound,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kerri Chandler,
The Fall,
The Residents,
Gregory Isaacs,
Warren Ellis,
The Slits,
Henry Cow,
Drexciya,
Crash Course in Science,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bang On A Can,
Essential Logic,
Robert Hood,
Motorama,
Derrick May,
Unrelated Segments,
Can,
Harry Pussy,
Von Mondo,
Hasil Adkins,
This Heat,
Zapp,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Erasure,
Lalo Schifrin,
Marmalade,
Y Pants,
Kenny Larkin,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jacques Brel,
New Age Steppers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Simply Red,
Ultravox,
Slave,
Dave Gahan,
Piero Umiliani,
Gong,
Deadbeat,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Techniques,
Joensuu 1685,
Tomorrow,
Lebanon Hanover,
Urselle,
a-ha,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gabor Szabo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Blake Baxter,
Jeru the Damaja,
Severed Heads,
Josef K,
The Barracudas,
Kurtis Blow,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.