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 Oman and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Drive Like Jehu to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Grey Daturas,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
David Bowie,
Depeche Mode,
Deadbeat,
The Doors,
The Fortunes,
Hoover,
Qualms,
Mo-Dettes,
Nils Olav,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Brass Construction,
Sällskapet,
Roy Ayers,
K-Klass,
Bad Manners,
Loose Ends,
The Zeros,
Iggy Pop,
Buzzcocks,
Bootsy Collins,
Model 500,
Guru Guru,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pulsallama,
Howard Jones,
Connie Case,
Arab on Radar,
Reuben Wilson,
The Fire Engines,
The Cure,
Intrusion,
Oneida,
Royal Trux,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Gap Band,
Gang of Four,
One Last Wish,
Supertramp,
the Bar-Kays,
Visage,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The American Breed,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dead Boys,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Spandau Ballet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Darondo,
Stockholm Monsters,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Soft Cell,
The Leaves,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Dirtbombs,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.